Under Their Skin
by Brontesis
Summary: This story moves from Casey and Derek's unacknowledged feelings for each other, through their discomfort and attraction, until a chain of oddly connected incidents finally brings their passion into the open! Lots of Dasey, as you guessed. Last chapter up!
1. In the middle there was nothing

**Under Their Skin (a Dasey, of course!)**

**Prologue: In the middle there was ... nothing  
**

If you ask either of them who noticed first, who changed things, how things changed, they can't tell you. They've racked their brains, sifted through months and weeks and days of insignificant details, tiny lost moments in the middle of the bigger picture, little nails, insignificant but sharp, scratching the surface of everyday life, peeling back layers to the bone that lies beneath.

They've pondered the enormity of the actual moments when the changes were brought to their attention, in the hours, minutes, seconds of acknowledgement, terror, denial and acceptance. But no; still, nothing. They frown, uncertain what this failure of memory means. Neither Casey, so fiercely precise when it comes to the lives of others, nor Derek, so delighted by his certainty in himself – can tell you a single thing.

And if they could, would you really want to know? Does it matter how they changed from being selfcentred, uncharitable, rivals, some would say enemies, to being – well, not quite friends, nor sworn allies, their relationship edgy and bitter-sweet still, but for all that – a couple.

It matters? You want to hear it even though you've conjectured this eight hundred times already, replayed these scenes and sequences through with your friends, your family even, giggled and squirmed at other people's imaginings on this subject and lain awake in thrall to your own just wishing they'd make another show so you could finally please just get some sleep? You're young, so it can't be lost youth you're looking for. Your interest in their story is genuine, a kind of addiction, but innocent for all that. Like me, you're hooked by the uncertainty, the cautious warmth and the tantalizing glimpses of a near perfect but possibly forbidden romance? Okay, I'll have to tell you then. And to uncover more, you'll have to read on.


	2. Washing up bubbles

**I don't own** _**LWD.**_** Don't really want to. They do a great job and I'm happy being a fan among other fans! Always appreciate reviews. Criticism too.**

**Chapter 1: Washing up Bubbles**

Casey was washing up. Her concentration on this task, as on every other, seemed absolute; there was a slight frown between her eyes and her braid fell lightly over her left shoulder. From another room the sounds of her family were audible: Marti reciting a rude rhyming poem to Nora – one for which she had been reprimanded only that morning at school; George's amused snicker as the poem reached its punch-line; the soft thwack of Lizzie's foot hitting the cushion that Edwin held so she could practice her karate kicks. Casey was oblivious, as we are to the monotonous but utterly necessary soundtrack of everyday contentment. If you'd been watching her, as Derek quietly was from his position leaning against the doorframe, it would have seemed as if nothing could move her attention from the next dirty, spaghetti-strewn plate. But really, as her hands slid the sponge back and forth over each bowl or utensil, and as she stacked items swiftly on the draining board, her mind was busy chasing back and forth over the events of the day. And phew, what a day it had been.

In the morning she's had _that_ letter. The long awaited one from the University of Toronto, telling her in so many words that she was not just accepted but would be welcomed in the fall. She could still remember everything about it: from the thickness of the watermarked paper to the smell of the ink where the Vice-President's secretary had signed her name. She was, in reality, marked by that letter; for, in opening it, her hands shook and she sliced the delicate skin between her thumb and forefinger on the creamy paper.

It was a Saturday, so no-one else had been up except her younger siblings. Nora had been out late at work the previous evening, and she and George were sleeping in. Casey re-read the letter and then tucked it beneath her pillow. Despite her excitement the past few weeks, and the knowledge that this was what she really wanted to do with her life, study Literature and live in a beautiful city – away but not too far from home – she was inexplicably unsettled by that letter. In fact, difficult as she found it not to gush about it to someone, anyone, especially to Emily and Nora, one her confidante, the other her supporter, she decided not to share the news with anyone just yet. She would soon write and accept the place. Yes, she was certainly going to do that. But before she did that, there were things she needed to find out and feelings she needed to let herself feel.

By noon, when the family were all up and gathered round the table for an impromptu brunch of scrambled eggs, bacon and pancakes, Casey had had her secret firmly in check, and only a sleepy-seeming Derek appeared to notice that she was acting any different than usual, and not participating fully in the family banter. And he chose to ignore it, at least at that point.

'Dad, are you and Nora home this evening? Can I borrow the car tonight?' Derek's voice was casual.

'Why don't you take the Prince?' George wasn't going to allow anyone, especially his reckless older son, to mess with the new car. _Driving nine months and he thought he was a pro. _

'I'm taking…I mean I'm going...' Derek trailed off, as if undecided about telling his family the details of his plans. 'Oh okay, forget it, I'll use the Prince.' Casey looked up. It was unusual for Derek to give up without an argument; he must really not want to tell them what he was planning – or was it _who_ he was planning to go out with? Her stomach started to hurt and the food didn't seem appetizing anymore. She rubbed her face absently with the back of her hand, watching her step-brother covertly, just as he glanced her way. Their eyes met and for less than a second an awkward current of discomfort and confusion ran between them. Then Derek grinned at her. His mouth was full of pancake and syrup. Deliberately making himself grotesque for her, he raised his eyebrows and pretended to gag, chewed pancake hanging like mud from his tongue.

'Ew! Derek. Can you _be_ any more _gross_?' Casey had sounded disgusted. But there was just a shade of relief in her posture as she'd let out a breath and looked back at her plate. Sometimes when he looked at her….She didn't even know what she felt.

Edwin laughed, joking, 'Casey must've laced the pancakes with arsenic! She knew Derek would get 'em all!'

'Edwin!' Nora warned. 'Don't tease your step-sister. She's got a lot on her plate.' Realizing that this could be misconstrued, Nora corrected herself, 'I mean, um she's got finals coming up.'

Casey could feel the family staring, amused, disapproving. She'd wondered why everyone thought she hated Derek. After all, she wasn't the one who relentlessly pranked him or insulted him in school or took pleasure in his difficulties. She'd come to his aid on several occasions in the past two years, and tried to do it without making him feel she was doing it for him. With his stupid pride, he'd never have accepted help from her otherwise. And she wasn't the one who ever, ever let the sun go down on an argument. Again, inexplicably, she looked up and met his eyes, searching, smiling. Did Derek think she disliked him? Would he be looking so amused if he did?

'So, Casey made this _feast_ today?' was all he'd said, lazily, almost to himself, wiping the last of the maple syrup from his plate with a finger. 'Why, I wonder?'

'I'm off to the library. Anyone want to join me?' Casey had already pulled her chair back. A chorus of 'nos' hid her embarrassed face. The breakfast had been a celebration for herself. For her secret acceptance at college. But Derek couldn't possibly have known that, or even have guessed.

After that the weekend hours had sped by in a haze of books, phone calls, dinner, games with Marti – and here she was now, doing the dishes and thinking about her life with the Venturis, and how maybe, in just three months, there would be no-body around who knew her quite as well as one of them did. The most imperceptible of sighs, a mere breath almost followed this thought.

She wrung out the dish cloth and hung it on its hook, her slim wrists and shoulders catching the light as she turned, single bubble from the washing up bowl floating towards her and landing gently on her cheek.

Then she saw Derek, still leaning in the kitchen doorway, his expression quietly amused, affectionate even and his voice just as always, slightly sardonic, 'Penny for your thoughts, Space Case.'


	3. Crazy Vibes

**I don't own **_**LWD**_**. All reviews welcomed. Advice taken seriously.  
**

**Last Chapter...**

_She wrung out the dish cloth and hung it on its hook, her slim wrists and shoulders catching the light as she turned, a single bubble from the washing up soap floating towards her and landing in her hair. Then she saw Derek, still leaning in the kitchen doorway, his expression quietly amused, affectionate even and his voice just as always, slightly sardonic, 'Penny for your thoughts, Space Case.'_

**Chapter Two: Crazy Vibes**

As she approached Derek in the doorway, Casey paused. Instead of yelling, as she might have done a few months ago when he startled her like that, she looked up at him, her eyes shining.

Derek didn't know what the look meant, couldn't see the train of thought which had led her to the conclusion that since it was past nine now and the light was beginning to fade, _he wouldn't be going out_. Which meant that he _didn't_ have plans that evening, _didn't_ need the car, and certainly _wouldn't be taking anyone_ – the operative person being a female someone – anywhere in his car that evening. So, feeling suddenly ecstatic, without quite understanding her own relief, she actually stopped, right by him in the doorway, and gave him one of the craziest, prettiest smiles he could imagine.

Then she said, 'Hey _you_! Thanks for keeping me company', her voice sounding happier than he'd heard it all day. Huh? _What was that about?_ Derek almost asked, wondering if she was being sarcastic, since sarcasm was her trademark weapon with him and technically she hadn't known he was there and he hadn't helped her in anyway, _so how did that count as company?_ But her smile was just too damn gorgeous.

There was still a tiny soap bubble on her cheek, transparent and with a rainbow in it. Pleased with himself for having made her unaccountably happy rather than the usual – embarrassed, hurt or infuriated – Derek lifted a finger and touched her cheek, wiping the bubble away. Suddenly she couldn't look at him, and slipped into the living room to join the rest of their family, softly humming a tune, leaving him leaning against the door frame more frustrated with himself than she could ever be.

She hadn't answered his question and instead of pursuing her and forcing her to reveal her 'secret', he was allowing himself to contemplate something else, something that he absolutely most certainly should not be thinking about on a weekend just a month away from finals.

Derek had struggled all day to keep his mind in check. The turmoil he was feeling, if one could call it that, had started with a letter, which came for him in the post that morning. Well, no, actually, it didn't start with that letter, but with another one that he'd sent off all on his own steam some months before. Hearing George and Nora talking to Casey about University, hearing Casey and Emily talking about University, hearing the teachers talking about University, hearing even Sam and Ralph joking but still talking about the possibility of University, Derek had suddenly felt a strange nauseous emptiness. He'd tried to locate its source: not enough food; he must be hungry. But eating had only made him feel more unwell.

Maybe he wasn't getting enough sleep? He'd said no to a few dates and a couple of parties, stayed in bed till mid-day whenever he had a chance, missed out on family breakfasts, only to find his mind disrupted by the quietness of the house when everyone was out. Thoughts of this being an everyday occurrence in six months time plagued him, his heart-rate speeding up and the nasty floating pain in his stomach made worse by the sound of the door closing as his siblings left for their various busy days or as Casey shouted goodbye before leaving for - the library? her dance class? a date?

It was like the time when he thought no-one would miss him if he went to Spain. It was like feeling invisible, only worse, because it was as if he was counting down the days to when he was going to become invisible forever. Well _forever_ was a bit melodramatic, more fitting of something Casey might think, perhaps, but nevertheless, life after high school didn't automatically have a space and a place for people with looks and charm and talent but no clue what they wanted to do in the real world apart from sleep late and drive a good car.

He tried to stop analyzing what was making him sick, because when he tried, all he kept coming back to was the thought that the people who made his life really special, made his life what it had been for the past few years, would soon be gone. And that included Casey, whom he was – back then, in the freaking cold, gloomy months of winter, which kept them all home a lot and constantly bickering – trying not to think about more than was strictly necessary.

So, one Saturday morning just after Christmas, he'd stayed behind after Hockey practice to speak to the coach. For the first time in what seemed like years Derek told someone something about himself that wasn't part of his image or part of a joke intended to mislead them. Derek declared his stake and his grades.

Coach explained the rules about athletic scholarships, making sure that Derek understood how competitive they were, and how it was even then under discussion whether scholarships should be awarded at all on this basis at the U of T, which was where Derek had set his heart on going. His ears ringing with the thought that most of his fellows were applying for places in the States, Derek realised that while he'd been busy being cool, everyone around him had started making plans.

Coach had impressed on Derek that even if he did get an athletic scholarship to play the game he loved, he'd still have to study, because they wouldn't keep him on without academic grades. Biting his nails, shifting from foot to foot, feeling sweat drip out of his hair, wishing he'd never started the conversation, Derek finally said that it was worth it and that he was ready to be serious. So he'd sat down and written a letter, filled in an application form, and Coach had filled in a section, and taken it away to get it stamped. And that was that. They hadn't mentioned it since.

But today, when Derek had seen the two identical creamy coloured envelopes on the mat - oh! His nerve had almost cracked.

He was up the stairs in seconds, the envelop with his name on it balled in a fist, heart juddering and thumping as if someone was just about to attack him with a machete.

Normally he would have stolen hers. He would have steamed it open in the bath, read her news because he had none of his own, ruined her moment – because he just assumed she'd get accepted, _no matter what_, she was brilliant at everything she did – and then paid for it by having his name shrieked through the house or his door slammed open and his belongings tossed to the ground. That was their ritual, their routine. The one that in the last two years it had come to seem they could both just about bear to inhabit without having to face the hurt or humiliation of anything slightly less comedic, more real and risky. Yes, normally he would have stolen hers. But not today.

And what happened next was really so out of character for him that he couldn't have explained it to anyone if they had witnessed it. He opened his letter, read that he'd got an unconditional offer, at least for the first year, and burst into strange, fierce, uncontrollable tears.

By the time Casey got down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, Derek was fast asleep on his bed again, letter twisted beneath his cheek. He woke with its lines etched on his face and showering barely got them off. By the time he smelt the pancakes, he'd decided he wanted to drive all the way to Toronto that evening whatever excuse it took, and, if Casey asked him real nice, he was going to take her along too. For that to happen, he needed two things: he needed her to say she had got her place at the U, and he needed his father and Nora to agree to him taking their car. Because loyal as he was to the Prince, he knew by now that an evening spent on a motorway would have the poor machine coughing smoke the rest of the week.

Of course, things never go according to plan. His father was quizzical and made him change his mind about the use of the family car. Casey was shy and monosyllabic, hugging the knowledge of her letter to herself in a most unusual and undramatic way.

Derek felt his dread about the future returning. In an effort to disguise the sudden constriction in his throat, he stuck out his tongue at Casey, and heard her exclamation of disgust; all the while wondering whether something had after all gone wrong and she hadn't got in. Wouldn't that be an irony?

You might have thought that Derek being Derek the thought would make him happy. To have bested her in an area that was seriously her domain. Surely that should be fun? But actually it made him feel uneasy and sad and utterly deflated. If she wasn't going to Toronto, he didn't want to go either. There. He'd admitted it to himself at least. All the strange panic, all the un-Derek-like self-doubt and hidden effort, had been - not because he couldn't bear to be alone without his other friends, not because he didn't want to leave his family, but solely because of her. So that he didn't have to live through the next three years in this or any other city on earth without the possibility of conversing with her every single day, without the sound of her annoying music, the sight of her neat figure, pretty hair and shining eyes, or the chance to poke fun at the absurd, nerdish things she made him to do for other people. Out of kindness. Because, when she wasn't whining or overindulging her imagination, she was just about the kindest person he'd ever met.

Ugh! _He was so, so finished….._He looked at his hand, where it had touched her cheek when she left the kitchen, looked and looked and felt suddenly as if he'd put a spell on himself, and nothing was ever going to be the same again until it broke. Or at least until he found out what Casey's letter had said. She couldn't keep it to herself forever, whatever the news, and his bets were she'd crack and tell Emily by the end of the evening. How could she not tell Emily? All he had to do was be there to listen.

**Author's note:** **I'm horribly busy this week but leave me a note to say if this is worth continuing and it will...**


	4. Waiting for something to happen

**I don't own LWD. Really appreciate the reviews and want to say thank you so much for kind words and advice. More reviews, more motivation to write!**

**Previously:**_ She couldn't keep it to herself forever, whatever the news, and Derek's bets were she'd crack and tell Emily by the end of the evening. How could she not tell Emily? All __**he**__ had to do was be there to listen._

**Chapter three – Waiting for Something to Happen**

Soft music and intermittent canned laughter drifted from the television, in front of which the younger children were now gathered on the couch. Nora and George were at the table, scribbling away in their respective note books. There was only one lamp on in the lounge, and a rare atmosphere of calm permeated the house.

At ten, Casey decided to call it a night. She'd played cards with Marti, braided Lizzie's hair – only to have her screech in disgust at the outcome and undo it all; she'd listened to George vent about one of his clients; written up a list of pick up and drop off times for Nora (and that was only till Wednesday), and tried, but failed, to stop feeling guilty that the only two ideas really inhabiting her mind were currently upstairs, with a wall separating them. One, of course, was an inanimate piece of paper with a University of Toronto stamp on it and would have to be revealed, answered, dealt with, somehow, in the next few days; the other was a far different matter: a living, breathing being, an enigma, who made her smile secretly, plagued her till her brain hurt, but still, somehow, managed to act as if she wasn't good enough to share the world with him.

As she ascended the stairs, Casey caught herself listening for sounds from Derek's room. She heard nothing but an unusual silken silence, drenched in the possibility of things unsaid. How many nights she'd done this now, consciously or unconsciously attuning herself to the sounds from her step-brother's room. She started to undo her braid, in preparation for the thorough brushing it received each night, fingers sliding in and out of her hair with practiced ease.

She put an ear to his door. Still nothing. Could he be in bed that early? What if he'd been dumped, and that was why he hadn't gone on the big date he'd been planning? Or perhaps he wasn't there! Maybe he'd clambered out of the window and secretly left for his date in mum and George's car, no one the wiser. Perhaps that was why he hadn't argued with George at breakfast. That would be so like Derek, to deflect suspicion and then just go his own way. Much more likely than being in bed at ten on a Saturday night! She groaned softly. Get away from his door, McDonald! This is getting creepy.

Standing barefoot in the passage outside their rooms, bunching a small corner of her t-shirt between her fingers, Casey began to argue with herself, as she always did.

If I was listening to sounds from my own room, I'd know I was crazy for sure, she thought, imagining her letter floating up towards the ceiling and then banging on her windowpane, demanding egress from its disloyal owner. She stifled her giggles. That was such an absurd thought. But still, she did feel a little disloyal to the whole project of getting herself to University and getting on with her life. After weeks of mental tempest, here was _The Letter_, and she had not spoken of it to a soul. Okay, inwardly she caved. I'll call Emily.

She stepped into the bathroom, wishing to beat the inevitable scuffles that would ensue when her younger siblings left their spots in front of the television. Even now, she could hear Nora bidding them goodnight, hugs and kisses being exchanged. They were all up later than usual, as it was a weekend, of course; but better still, it was a long weekend, what with Monday being a national holiday, so no-one was in much of a hurry to go to bed. Nevertheless, the young ones had some sort of a routine, and Nora and George wanted to watch television by themselves in the lounge for a change. Okay, she'd better be quick.

Brushing her teeth and then humming to herself as she splashed water on her face, Casey tried to imagine what Emily would say when she heard her news. She'd be _so pleased_ for her. Everyone would be _so pleased_ for her. This was just what she wanted and needed, to get away from London, from distractions, from Derek – wait, where did that thought come from? Did Emily think she wanted to go to University to get away from Derek? In fact, was that what everyone thought? Had she done such an excellent job of seeming to hate him? Why was this thought making her feel so hollow? And why are you having this conversation with yourself instead of with Emily? Casey, get a grip!

Switching off the bathroom light, she tiptoed towards her room, again listening to hear if Derek was awake. There was a glimmer from under his door. Without quite thinking, she tapped and pushed it open, the completely irrational urge to look at him and hear his voice stronger than her fear of humiliation.

He was sitting as she often imagined him, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, hair falling softly into his eyes, hands behind his head. Very relaxed and doing absolutely nothing, just watching her, as if he'd expected her to come into his room. 'Are you going to call Emily, or shall I?' were his first words. Uh oh! He was a mad, magical, mind-reader, just as she'd feared. Or else…Casey got ready to scream at him. He must have been in her room, and read her letter and -

He couldn't have read it. She'd hidden it pretty good.

Her mind went blank.

Derek was still looking at her expectantly, eyebrows raised ever so slightly in an expression she had come to know as his disguise for when he was thinking things he simply would not say.

'Derek, what are you talking about?'

'Um, you came upstairs, to call Emily, I presume?'

'Why on earth would you presume that?'

'Because.' He hoped she couldn't see how his heart was speeding, pressing against the inside of his chest as if it wanted to find the simplest route out of there. Of course she wasn't going to buy it. Maybe she'd think he'd been snooping around her room, the very last thing he wanted her to think.

'"Because" is not an answer. It's not even correct gammar.'

She had him there and he knew it. His question had simply slipped out in a burst of uncontrollable foolishness and now he'd have to confess; but everything about her demeanour told him that this was simply not the time or the place for a long and complicated conversation. She looked so unsettled, and so confused, her pretty smile gone now and replaced by a puzzled scowl.

'Okay, Case, it's not a big deal. You've been looking more spaced out than usual today, and earlier you were actually nice to me. _To me!_ You probably thought no-one noticed. Something big must be up and if something's up, you'll talk to Emily about it, who else? So I just assumed…' He paused. He was babbling. Usually it was her babbling and him looking sardonic.

Casey looked deflated. She padded over and sat quietly on the edge of his bed, a couple of inches separating them. Incredibly, at least to her, she felt the urge to reach out and touch his hands as they lay in his lap. Maybe if she could actually feel some part of him, keep his fingers pressed between hers for a few minutes, all the questions in her head would go away or come out more naturally, not in a mad twisted torrent, spilling her inner self everywhere for him to read or tread on as he pleased.

'I got my letter from Toronto.' She said softly.

'Your acceptance letter?' She nodded, watching him with such tortured precision that she could almost have been trying to read his mind. Waiting, though he didn't know it, for some sign, some tiny acknowledgement that he didn't want her to go, would miss her, or grieve over her departure at least.

'That's fantastic, Case. But there wasn't any question was there? I mean, you were always gonna get in, right?' Although he had known about the letter, he didn't need to fake surprise. The fact that she was sitting here telling him had knocked the breath out of him. He was grinning from the sheer thrill of being the one she told first.

'So, what should I do?' Her voice was so subdued that Derek had to sit forward to hear her. She was looking down now, and he couldn't see her eyes.

'You'll accept it of course? Unless there's somewhere else you want to go? But surely nowhere is quite good enough for the super-brainy MacDonald, so you'd better take this offer!' He teased gently, trying to hide his pleasure that they'd be seeing each other for the next few years. But all Casey heard was the flat sound of another person _glad_ to see her go. And he was the one that counted. She'd broken all her rules; told him first. And now here they were, caught in a tide of inane pleasantries over her imminent departure. If there was anything worse than him hating her and giving her hell all the time, it was him just not caring at all, or being polite to her, as if she was some fragile old aunt he was trying to impress. She stood up.

'Night then.'

'Night Case, don't stay up too late writing congratulations cards to yourself!' It took all her will power not to run from his room screaming.


	5. Regret

**I don't own LWD. I do so enjoy writing this story, and seriously appreciate you guys and your comments. **

_**Previously: **__Derek teased Casey, trying to hide his pleasure at the thought that they'd be seeing each other for the next few years at university. But all Casey heard was the flat sound of another person glad to see her go. She stood up. _

_'__Night then.'_

___'__Night Case, don't stay up too late writing congratulations cards to yourself!' It took all her will power not to run from his room screaming._

**Chapter 4** – **Regret**

There's a time between dreaming and waking when you almost feel as if you are in another more quirky time, a place – familiar but slightly askew – dimly resembling the one you actually inhabit. It's not necessarily a happier place or a better time. But it is, at least, a simpler one, where the reality of your thoughts is translated more easily into words and actions, with all the consequences that would ensue dimmed by your dream-fogged mind. Though not immune to pain or regret, it's perfect for fantasy.

In this place and time on the Sunday morning, unaware of mundane pressures and in no hurry to wake properly, Derek lay, eyes closed. His mind sifted through the happenings of past months, touching butterfly-like on pleasing faces, good goals, a thrilling caress; then it snagged on one event in particular. Without breaking from this pleasantly soporific state he tried to move on, but found himself prevented by a sudden sharp discomfort, his half-conscious brain already unreeling what might have happened, what could have happened, if he had behaved less arrogantly or if at that time he had understood his own heart better. In the softer-focus world of his imagination, he'd have done the right thing, and been rewarded for it by the gift of two unbroken days and an entire night with the woman of his dreams. If only.

In reality, it had been late fall, with the maple leaves a perfect russet colour and chilly blue skies for days on end. For some reason that only she understood – or perhaps it would be better put if he said that only she and a few dozen super-keen do-gooders understood – Casey had decided to do a sponsored hike to help a local Children's charity in its bid to raise enough money to give a group of local foster kids a trip away at Christmas. When Derek heard about it, via the usual malicious rumour-mongers and gossipy girls at school, he'd cringed in embarrassment. Could there be anything lamer? Its very wholesomeness and altruism made Casey's gesture totally uncool, and although he was trying not to let her reputation make any difference to him, he couldn't help but feel odd when he heard other girls giggling over her requests to be sponsored. Why couldn't she just be like other people and do nothing, or do something silly and fun if she had to be so charitable?

He'd approached Emily flippantly, hoping to enlist her support in getting Casey to change her mind about the two-day hike – not about the entire project, because even Derek couldn't bring himself to be responsible for preventing poor kids from getting a Christmas outing – maybe he could persuade her to organise a beauty pageant or some other superficial girly thing that the cool kids would approve of. But, in the event, the words dried up right inside his mouth. For the moment he greeted Emily, she clapped in excitement and asked if he would sponsor her too, as she was going to hike alongside Casey! What a pair, he remembered thinking, as he'd scribbled his name and the sum of ten dollars as illegibly as he could on Emily's piece of paper, only to find her waving it around and calling in her shrillest voice, 'Come on guys, Derek's in for a ten, anyone going to top that? It's all in a good cause…'

Derek had averted his eyes and was leaning against his locker listening to Sam moan about something to do with his sister when Casey appeared beside him, smiling and warm, her honey coloured curls almost bouncing with excitement. 'You sponsored us! Now everyone's signing up! Looks like we might get a few hundred just at school. You're a star Derek! We make a good team!' She seemed oblivious to everyone else in the corridor, utterly focused on him, as if she'd been waiting for him to show his true colours, the kindness beneath his everyday skin, and was now hailing not just his mildly embarrassed gesture in sponsoring them but also the person she thought he was.

As Sam moved out of her way and left for class, smirking at him, she'd actually made to hug him; and Derek, awkward and nonplussed as he always was by her effusive, unselfconscious physical affection, had stepped back with his hands up.

Still, when he'd walked away from his stepsister that October day, he had felt remarkably good about himself, the glow from her praise still surrounding him hours later as he practiced his shots on the ice. Now, lying in bed, similarly balmy from the previous day's conversation with her and last night's dreams, he was suddenly chilled as he remembered how the whole thing had come unravelled: Casey's determination, Emily's distress, his own refusal of help and the final ironic twist.

Two days before the weekend on which they were to set out for their hike, Emily caught a cold. By lunch on the Thursday, she was feeling nauseous and faint, and leant her head against her locker with unaccustomed depression on her face. When Casey asked her if she was going to be well enough to do the hike at the weekend, however, she insisted she would be fine. They agreed that she would rest as much as she could and if this meant missing school on the Friday, then that's what she would do.

Rummaging around in the fridge for a supper snack on the Thursday night, Derek was startled by Nora and Casey, who came into the kitchen deep in conversation about what Casey would do if Emily was ill on Saturday. Nora had sounded ultra-stressed. They barely glanced his way, and Derek listened to Casey trying to persuade her mother that Emily was going to recover in time.

'But I don't want you to be responsible for dragging your best friend up and down hills with a fever, darling.' Derek wondered where they were planning to hike. Hills? That didn't sound like fun. He'd smirked at the thought of do-gooder Casey suffering for her convictions.

'That's ridiculous. She's just sneezing. She'll be better, I'll go call her now.'

'Hmm. But I'd still rather you found yourself a backup companion. I don't want my beautiful daughter confronting bears and goodness knows what or who, all on her own. I told you that before and that's still how George and I feel. End of story.' Nora's voice was unusually firm. Derek saw Casey hide a shiver; imagining herself face to face with a bear? Or a person: far worse.

'Nothing's going to happen to me! I've planned the whole thing from the start. I know the route and I'm not changing my mind. Besides, can you think of a single person who would agree to spend their weekend with me in a forest? Have you even seen the weather forecast? I thought not.' It was at that point that she noticed Derek.

'Der-_ek!_ This is none of your business!' Casey looked embarrassed that he'd overheard their conversation. Sensing a chance to annoy her and faintly uneasy that she'd caught him listening, he'd replied in a drawl, 'You're right about one thing Princess, can't imagine anyone wanting to spend the weekend the way you've got it planned…'. Then he'd taken his sandwich into the living room, leaving Nora shaking her head and Casey looking crestfallen, although she'd been asserting exactly what he said a few moments before. The rest seemed like a foregone conclusion.

On Friday, Emily didn't show up for class. This time it was Casey leaning her head against a locker at lunchtime. Derek walked by and bumped her with his shoulder, feeling contradictory impulses of curiosity, concern and mischief.

'Spacey, if you hadn't noticed-' Casey whirled around as if he'd hit her, cutting off whatever he'd been about to say with an imploring look and wail in her voice.

'Derek, what am I going to do? It's just impossible, she's not going to make it tomorrow and I simply can't let those kids down. So many people… I've got to go.' She was holding his arm lightly, tears swimming in her eyes. It was pure drama, and their classmates were stopping to look at them, some with smirks and others shaking their heads as if this were a long-expected scene. Derek was first profoundly embarrassed and then annoyed with her. He shooed her along the corridor towards a quieter corner, as if she were a little girl.

'What do you want me to do?'

'Can't you find someone to go with me? You know everyone. _They trust you._ If you say _you'd_ do it if you weren't playing hockey, they'll believe you-'

'Casey! Just stop. Didn't you hear me yesterday? There is no one who'd be stupid enough to give up their entire weekend for this stunt of yours. And even if they wanted to', he softened his tone as her hand dropped from his arm, 'they've all got plans and other places to be. Most of them have girlfriends, boyfriends, dates, jobs, proper lives. _What?_ Woah, Case!' He'd pushed her away slightly as her tears had brimmed over. 'Just call the Charity and tell them you can't do it this weekend, there'll be other weekends.'

It was sound advice, probably the best he'd ever given her, and exactly what Nora and George would have told her (minus the stupid part, of course). But Casey had simply sighed and walked away, absolutely no light in her eyes, no bounce in her step. Shit!

Shrugging his hair out of his eyes and his bag into a more comfortable position across his shoulders, Derek had thumped a door in frustration. _Why_ did she have to act like such a spoilt kid when things didn't go her way? _Why_ wouldn't she ever just accept that she was human and weak like everyone else and sometimes couldn't do stuff the exact way she wanted?' And even as he'd thought those things, his conscience had scolded back, telling him that Casey often put up with things she hated for the sake of others, that she'd had her fair share of knocks and humiliations and accepted some of them with a patience he certainly didn't possess.

Passing him, Sam had met his eyes, shaking his head slightly, asking what was up. Strangely worried at the thought that Sam might take pity on Casey and offer to accompany her for the weekend, Derek had ignored the implicit question. A random girl had passed him, smiling widely and blowing him a kiss. He'd made no effort to smile back. Going into class, he'd seen Casey again, curls falling across her shoulder as she bent over her books, not meeting anyone's eyes; and he'd known what he ought to do.

So what if he'd be missing practice that Saturday morning. So what if they fought the whole way through the hike. At least she wouldn't look this defeated! At least those kids would get their outing. Maybe he could even persuade her to take an easier route; to take more food, some games, and leave the car somewhere along the way.

Satisfied with himself, Derek had gone home after a night out at the movies with Sam that fall Friday intending to be her companion. But it had been past midnight. And he'd forgotten to set his alarm. And by the time he'd woken in the morning, to the sound of a heated argument between his father and Nora, Casey was, apparently, already long gone.

The concerned pleas of their parents were of no use now that she'd made the decision and left, alone, without telling anyone, getting a lift to the starting point of her hike from none other than Emily's boyfriend. Derek ground his teeth in frustration, vowing to torture Emily for arranging this, for allowing the stupid plan to take shape.

Casey was good at allaying everyone's fears, had even telephoned from a phone box near the beginning of her hiking trail. And then again on the first evening, to tell them she was safe. She had her cell phone. She had a tent and a torch. She was Casey McDonald. She'd be fine.

And strangely Nora had accepted this; calmed down completely; even been able to smile as if everything were okay before putting Marti to bed.

Derek was the only one in the house who couldn't sleep that rainy Saturday night, imagining Casey alone in the tiny tent in the park where she had stopped, imagining the crowded darkness outside and the intimate space beside her body, where, had he just been less full of himself, more alert to her feelings, he might have been lying.

Had he really thought that then, all those months back? Was he even then aware of his emerging passion for the crazy, dazzling, stubborn girl he was forced to share a roof with and call his sister? He couldn't remember. But certainly he'd thought it enough times in the following months.

More alert, now, and restless, Derek tried to stop thinking, to go back to his previously sleepy state, before this impetuous, unbidden memory reached its conclusion. Gone was the early morning contentment; all his ease had dissolved into the stinging swirl of regret which now suffused each fragment of the memory. It was as if life had offered him a chance to prove himself, that weekend, and he slept through the whole thing. Worse, if you turn you back on a chance, it gets offered to someone else. The thought of someone else having that chance with _his_ klutzy, off-beat Casey was simply unbearable.

Confused by his longing, ashamed of his thoughts and frustrated by his inability to forget about her even for ten minutes, it was Derek who had driven out to pick her up that Sunday evening, from a village some miles out of town.

She'd looked exhausted and wet, completely devoid of any appearance of triumph at her achievement and as unlike the usual Casey as he could imagine. He'd longed, then, for her to berate him as she usually did, to tell him she'd won and he'd lost or just that she was glad to be back and happy to see him. But instead she'd thanked him calmly for collecting her, and then fallen asleep against the foggy window, strands of rather wild hair shielding her soft cheek entirely from his sideways glances.

She'd collected the ten dollars he owed her in utter silence; fulfilled her obligation to the charity without the usual crowing, even when they printed the pictures she'd taken on her hike in their Christmas bulletin; accepted Emily's gratitude with a big hug; faced Nora's scolding with an apologetic frown; and then proceeded to pretend the whole thing hadn't happened. Weird.

Derek rolled over in bed. His clock said it was just after nine. Ugh. What on earth had made him wake so early? There wasn't even a game today. But he did have something to do – the letter of acceptance had to be written, now that he knew for sure Casey had got in too. Adrenaline rushed through him. Maybe this was a chance to show her what he felt, to prove that he wasn't always trying to hurt her or escape her company. Could he undo the hurt of all the pranks and insults, all the harm of slammed doors, ungenerous words and kindnesses withheld?

He opened his door and stepped out, only to find himself looking into a pair of very angry eyes. And, no, they didn't belong to Casey, but rather to George who was standing there, facing Nora in the children's corridor and saying in a low, frustrated voice, 'The Richardsons would have to go and ruin everyone's weekend this early on Sunday! What is it with them? Are they mentally unstable? Or is this some kind of trick to make you work at the weekend? Honey, you're going to have to break it to the kids while I go pick those morons up.'

Nora simply shook her head and muttered, 'Shush, George', in a placatory voice. Cornelia Richardson was her boss.

Like Derek, Casey was standing in her doorway, a pink tank top and jean skirt making her tanned skin look utterly delicious, wet hair dripping into a towel, eyebrows raised. The moment their eyes met, however, she turned away and closed her door, softly but distinctly breaking the contact and locking Derek out of her thoughts. What on earth was going on?

** … reviews are like fuel as you writers out there know! Only a couple more chapters to go and and they'll be more romantic.**


	6. Unexpected guests

**I don't own LWD. Thank you readers and reviewers. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I'm liking writing this. Shameless romance, but who cares!**

**Previously: **_Like Derek, Casey was standing in her doorway, a pink tank top and jean skirt making her tanned skin look utterly delicious, wet hair dripping into a towel, eyebrows raised. The moment their eyes met, however, she turned away and closed her door, softly but distinctly breaking the contact and locking Derek out of her thoughts. What on earth was going on?_

**Chapter 5 – Unexpected Guests**

Casey heard her mother trying to placate George, and she heard his acerbic comments about Cornelia Richardson, the woman who was coming to take over their house for the next twenty-four hours. Nora's boss had arrived in town with her mother, her husband, and three British friends of theirs, with whom they had been sightseeing in the area, when they managed to crash their car. As all the reputable local hotels were fully booked for the long weekend, Cornelia had called Nora just before dawn to announce that they would need three double rooms and lots of food. _No kidding!_ She knew just how to make her employees squirm. Normally Casey would have been the first to jump to her mother's defence and aid – offering her skills in organising what was sure to be an agonisingly busy day, because, to add to all their troubles, Edwin had come down with some kind of virus in the evening and was sleeping off a night of vomiting. But, not this time: today Casey stood with her back to her bedroom door, wet curls falling across her bare shoulders, towel held to her face; she was shaking slightly.

Ever since she'd been a little girl, she'd known that patience was not her strong suit. Today she'd planned to talk to Nora about the letter she'd received. She wanted to do this in privacy. Just for once, she'd wanted her mother's full and undivided attention, because she knew that Nora was not going to like what she had to say, not one bit, and that she would need every bit of her strength to explain to her why she was planning to turn down her offer from Toronto. The thought of waiting two more days to do this when she had just screwed up her courage was agonising.

For hours last night Casey had tossed and turned in bed, her usual relaxed slumber eluding her. All she saw in the darkness were Derek's teasing brown eyes, smiling at her in what seemed to be genuine satisfaction as she'd told him her news. Brilliant, just brilliant, he'd said, or something even more un-Derek-like in that vein, just minutes after he'd read her mind. Why, the only time in their entire lives when she was holding her breath hoping he'd make a joke of it, mock her achievement and all it stood for but still tell her – _no, don't go, it's not worth it, what will the family do without you? Wait, I don't want you to go_ – did he suddenly have to act all reasonable and decent and eerily grown-up?

The answer was glaringly obvious, she suspected, but she just couldn't accept it. She meant nothing to him – or at least nothing more than she was meant to, as his stepsister. Or he was simply relieved that they'd gotten through the four years of life together and she was going to be leaving, without any melodrama, broken hearts or angry words. Isn't that how she should be feeling? Isn't that how she had hoped she would feel one day – in fact hadn't she written just such a thing in her journal? It was and she had. But here she was now, feeling more alone than she had at the worst times after their two households merged, and going quietly out of her mind: tortured by thoughts of a single person's hands and lips and hair and the way he walked and the way he wore his clothes and how he spoke or stood or laughed or raised food to his mouth or closed his eyes; and just _hating Derek_ so much for treating her with the cool and gracious kindness she had craved three years ago. What a mess.

Her mind ran wild with frustration, searching for clues, anything that might help her understand how she'd caught herself in these thorns and why she was now clutching them against her as if she'd die if she let go.

She'd thumped her pillow, switched on her light; switched it off again, when she heard footsteps outside her door and Edwin barfing into the toilet. A few moments later George's exhausted voice as he carried his youngest son back to bed, 'Nora! I could use a hand up here…' A few more minutes of muted conversation, doors closing, shuffling, and then gradually silence. Casey was thrown once more into her stormy thoughts; worse, they were leading her closer towards the source of the lightening. _That Friday night._

There was that Friday night some six weeks ago that she could not get out of her head. The circumstances had been amusing, almost ridiculous, even. She couldn't help smiling as she thought about how the evening had begun. But really, there was not much in what followed that she could think about without feeling the heat rise unbidden through her body and into her cheeks.

The television was blaring; the girls were annoyed, but keeping a low profile, at least until after dinner. Edwin and Derek had been betting on the outcome of a game. If Derek won, Edwin would have to clean the Prince and Derek's room free of charge for a month. If Edwin won, he got to sit in Derek's chair for the weekend.

'_Sheesh_, Ed, thought you could get yourself a better deal, what with the lawyer father an' all!' Lizzie had clearly been enjoying this part of the contest.

'He's Derek's father too, you dummy, and he's had years more practice!' Edwin was clearly annoyed by his step-sibling's pointing out the obvious injustice of the deal, but he wasn't about to give up.

The game continued, tipping in favour of first this side, then that, and finally, to everyone's surprise, the team Edwin picked had come out ahead.

'Ugh! That's just so…' Derek switched off the television and threw the remote control onto the couch just as George sent Marti to call everyone for dinner.

Casey hadn't thought much about the bet, at least until they'd eaten and Nora had put on a video for 'family night' – it was a kids flick, but so what! They were all going to be forced to watch it so that Marti got to spend at least one evening a weekend with her siblings! Actually, no-one except Derek minded that much. George and Nora usually fell asleep holding hands; Edwin did mental maths; Lizzie had missed it at the cinema and was happy to keep Marti company; Casey was just pleased they were all together and getting along; she and Marti were sitting beside their parents on the couch; Lizzie was leaning against Nora's knees, sipping a hot chocolate. But Derek… they'd been half way through the opening credits when he'd come in, phone clamped between his shoulder and ear, peeling an orange.

'Up, Edwierdo…' He'd gestured to his brother, now comfortably lounging in his chair.

'I _won_, remember, bro?'

'Shhhh!' Marti had screeched, watching bug-eyed as pretty figures swirled across the screen.

'You think that just because…uh… hey Sam!' Derek had turned away to finish his conversation. When he'd returned to the room again, he was in a better mood, but not satisfied over the seating arrangements. He didn't repeat his earlier attempts however, and merely sat down on the couch, lifting Marti into his arms and whispering to Casey 'Move over'.

'There's nowhere to go, silly, unless you want me to sit on someone's lap!' She'd hissed back.

'Settle down, you two', George had warned, and oddly enough, they had both fallen silent then, eyes fixed on the screen, arms touching slightly where the crowded couch forced them against each other.

Casey couldn't exactly tell when she'd realised that Derek was staring at her rather than watching the film, or that her hand, which had been playing with Marti's bracelet, was now resting on top of his. She almost withdrew it, face going hot, but at that moment Marti had chosen to wriggle off her brother's lap and run to the bathroom. Derek had drawn in a deep breath and moved his right arm so her hand slipped off his. She thought he was doing what she had been going to, setting right an abnormal situation, creating a space between them. But then, to her acute surprise, she felt his arm go across the back of the couch and around her, pulling her - knowingly or unconsciously - closer to him than she had been.

She hadn't moved or commented; hadn't even glanced at him, because, truth be told, she could barely breathe, so deeply disturbed did she feel about this contact with the person who normally wouldn't even cuddle her when she was sad or hug her when it was his birthday. Every nerve from her lips to her toes felt awake and on edge.

Casey's memory was flawless. That evening, relaxed amidst her family, she'd been wearing a light blue denim dress, which stopped above her knees; and Derek had on brown cord jeans and a dark green and brown short sleeved polo shirt. She could feel the skin on his arm against her neck, the rough fibre of his jeans against her thigh; and every single breath he took felt like an ocean rising and falling beside her. She'd wanted to look at him; she really had. But she couldn't turn her head and when his fingers smoothed her bare shoulder, stopped, then smoothed again, her stomach did a convincing butterflies caught in jelly imitation, as if someone had started an old fashioned washing machine inside her and it simply would not stop.

She could almost not bear to think about the rest of that family evening, and yet feelings from then kept flashing back across her mind, giving her a physical thrill that it was impossible to ignore. Apart from the fact that she could think about nothing except her step-brother's proximity, there were other trials to endure. The film had finished in a haze for her, and she'd heard Nora and George telling the younger kids to go to bed; heard them carrying Marti up the stairs; soon after that they themselves had bidden their older kids good night, and left Derek and Casey in full possession of the room, the remote control and the couch.

'You can watch what you want, you know, Der. I'm too tired to care.' Wondering if Derek would want his chair back now that it was vacant, Casey had dared to look at him for a second as she spoke, thinking oh what am I going to do, he's unbelievably handsome, his eyes are just amazing, I should die right here for all the times I've made him angry. Her voice wasn't even her voice any more, it was a hoarse, stammer, an imitation of her, 'You - can - watch - anything'.

'I am.' He said, looking at her. Was he laughing? She couldn't tell, but from his voice it sounded as if he were at least smiling. He had not withdrawn his arm from around her shoulder; and she hadn't the strength left to move away from his warmth, despite the now empty space beside her.

'You _are_?' Her voice had actually been shaking. Was he complimenting her, telling her he found her attractive? Did she want him to be saying what she thought he was saying?

But he didn't answer, just kept looking at her until she was blushing furiously. Suddenly irritated that he was making her feel like such a bundle of nerves, Casey had decided to test her theory. Turning her face towards his, leaning slightly against his shoulder in the dimly lit room, she'd brought her right hand up and traced it along his cheek and then up and into his hair. Unbelievable softness, and tension and roughness and a sharp, almost pained intake of breath and then he'd reached up and taken her hand and held it softly against his cheek. And closed his eyes. So.

She was not dreaming or deluded. They were equally attracted to each other.

The thought had brought both relief and more pain, because it made her long for Derek in a way that she'd never allowed herself to before, knowing as she did with perfect precision the things other girls felt and said about him and the ways he enthralled and abandoned in equal measure.

Suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable, she'd dragged herself off the sofa, leaving the possibilities and the intricacies and the danger of his encircling arm, his perfect, inviting, fickle lips. He hadn't protested or tried to prevent her leaving. She'd told him 'Good Night' as she stumbled up the stairs, unable to turn and look back lest she simply faint from how much she suddenly liked him liking her and the fear that it wasn't real. And then somehow, the next day, neither of them had said anything; and the next had passed in slow motion, an argument, muted but more normal. A date for him. A date for her. Cursory nods in the corridors and thunderous looks behind closed doors. A brooding, edgy calm had taken over.

Until this night, six weeks later, this time, this place, where everything was so apparently normal to everyone else that such a river of desire may never have flowed between the two of them; but to Casey everything felt always, just imperceptibly off-kilter, as if that some unruly giant had tilted the world ever so slightly on its axis and impishly forgotten to put it straight. And it was in this world that she found herself, completely unable to sleep.

At two am, Casey had climbed quietly out of bed and scribbled a list of pros and cons on a piece of paper torn hastily from her school notepad. She was bitingly aware of the saying _be careful what you wish for_. How long she had hoped and worked so that she could go to university, to that esteemed and enthralling place, to read literature, her favourite subject. How long she had waited for their family life to settle into a rhythmic calm.

Then the idea of _turning down_ the offer of her place in Toronto to go a local college and stay here – with the family, near to the person she was now afraid controlled not just her momentary heart rate but the entire future direction of her life – had come to her as she wrote, and within seconds she had made her decision and was asleep.

Now – now in this moment, on this Sunday morning in the present, the whole house was full of the sounds of nerves and preparation, doors banging, voices raised. None of the usual weekend lethargy or food or humour; and all because of some unexpected guests. Why couldn't Nora just take such things in her stride? Scratch that. Why did the Richardsons have to crash their car? Casey sniffed back incipient tears. She was tired and anxious and caught up in her own circumstances, reluctant to be dragged out of her daydreams for anyone else. Why did everyone have to act as if the Richardsons were royalty with the power of life and death over her family? I mean, how bad could they be?

Her question was quickly answered, however, when Nora knocked softly on her door and asked her with an imploring look to move herself and some of her things out of her room and into Derek's for the next two days. She, Edwin and Lizzie were being asked to give up their rooms. 'We can't possibly put them in Derek's room, Sweetheart, it's just too much of a mess', she said, when Casey demanded belatedly to know why he wasn't being asked to move in with Marti, 'and Marti's going to sleep with you guys. I'm afraid the Richardsons and their guests are commandeering not two but three of our bedrooms.'

**So, readers, what d'you think?**


	7. Clouds and Silver Linings

**I don't own **_**LWD**_**, though it's amusing, now that I'm in the thick of a story about them, how much more it seems as if we (their fans) **_**do**_** own Casey and Derek. Do any of you feel like this? The spooky power of literature. And thank you so, so much for the lovely, encouraging comments, possible ideas, and thoughtful reviews. Much appreciated.**

_**Previously: **__Nora knocked softly on Casey's door and asked her with an imploring look to move herself and some of her things into Derek's room for the next two days. She, Edwin and Lizzie were being asked to give up their rooms. 'We can't possibly put the Richardsons in Derek's room, Sweetheart, it's just too much of a mess', she said, when Casey demanded belatedly to know why he wasn't being asked to move in with Marti, 'and Marti's going to sleep with you guys. I'm afraid the Richardsons and their guests are commandeering not two but three of our bedrooms.'_

**Chapter 6 – Clouds and Silver Linings**

When Casey deliberately refused to look at him, turned away and shut her door, Derek felt an odd cold tension take hold in his chest. He had been on such a high at the thought of what he had achieved in getting the offer from the University of Toronto that in his head he'd already settled things with Casey, explained himself and his motivations, agreed that they were to live in close proximity the following term so that he could see her every day. But suddenly, he realised, she didn't seem that happy with him. Was it something about the way he had responded to her secret last night? Had he fallen short in his praise for her achievement or was she just plain sick of him? Maybe he had better do some investigating before he told her about his offer. Perhaps he was wrong about her and it would be the last thing she'd want. Thoughts swirled in his head like bitter coffee.

He returned to his own room but left the door open a crack and half listened to Nora explaining the guest situation to her oldest daughter. Had he not been in the middle of puzzling out Casey's strange coldness that morning, he would have found the part about her and Marti moving into his room a lot more amusing. As it was, he listened to her almost tearful questions with increasing concern. Instead of being furiously angry at having to give up her room for a day so close to the finals, she seemed to be accepting Nora's request. She wasn't her usual self and he wanted to know why.

A few minutes later, there was a tap on his door. Derek switched off his music and turned to find Nora there, looking frazzled. She came straight to the point

'Derek, I need you to be really cooperative today – I don't think I could cope with any more hysterics. Cornelia already nearly had a heart attack describing how her husband has totalled their car. It's a miracle none of them are seriously injured. Uh. Sorry, I'm rambling. Your father has gone to collect them and I need you to help me.'

'So I gathered, Nora. But I have a date this afternoon, so you'd better make it quick.' Derek quirked an eyebrow at her. He really was very fond of Casey's mother, and was planning to help her out. But the fact that she'd started by assuming he might not cooperate amused him, and he couldn't help having a bit of fun with her. The McDonald women were such easy targets.

'Well look, can you start by moving some of the beds around? And there are the two air mattresses in the garage that need to be pumped up. I would ask Casey and Lizzie but they're busy thinking what stuff they need to get out of their rooms for today and tonight, and they're trying to make things tidy for the guests in there.'

'Hmm, in Casey's case that's going to mean gutting the room I should think, or they might choke on all the sickly pinkness.' Derek said automatically. Nora's 'Der-_ek_' sounded like a mild imitation of her daughter's, but it still made Derek straighten and breathe hard, thinking about its originator. Okay, he thought, I'm seriously not well in the head today.

Nora turned to leave, then swivelled to pin him with knowing eyes.

'Oh and Derek, please tell me when you've cleared and cleaned your room. I know my daughters. Not one of them will agree to sleep here at the moment and I could do without the extra drama today, if you know what I mean.'

Nora actually smiled at him, an authentic smile of complicity, telling him she knew her girls, and Casey in particular; telling him she was trying to sidestep the 'drama'. There was amusement and irony in her tone as well as sense of their shared affection for its subjects. For the second time in two days a McDonald woman was confiding in him and asking for his help at the same time. Trusting him. Derek was so genuinely surprised and pleased by this that his usual quirky comeback died on his tongue and turned into an almost humble nod of understanding.

Nora left his room looking much happier than she had when she entered and after a few seconds of skilful prevarication, Derek shook himself and rose to the challenge implicit in his stepmother's words. Removing his shirt, he started to collect his things up and shove them into drawers, laughing softly to himself at some of the items he found and once exclaiming softly in triumph as he retrieved a cd that he had borrowed from Sam and wanted to return. He remembered vividly the day he had lost it.

It had been way back in the winter, a freezing cold Thursday during their Christmas vacation. The skies, when they woke, appeared to be exhorting them to go back to bed, crawl under the covers and stay there, for there was virtually no light between and behind the low glowering clouds. The windows were frosty and there was black ice on the roads, tiny cracks signalling the first hardy drivers had already passed that way.

But, true to form, Nora had insisted that they stick to their vacation plans and drive to Toronto to stay with some friends who'd been inviting them over for months. It had been arranged that the younger children would go with them, leaving Derek and Casey in charge of the house. With the weather as bad as it was, there was an unspoken agreement that everyone would take good care. There would be no parties, and most likely no trips into town.

Derek had been out late the previous evening, on his fist date since the strange debacle of Casey's sponsored hike. He'd returned late and watched television until past three.

Since he hadn't told anyone, no-one had known what a dreadful evening he'd had, trying to avoid kissing this quiet, friendly blond kid from the year below them. Trying to avoid offending her, and managing to hurt her with his distance all the same. He'd felt as if he were losing his touch, and his grip on reality. But of course, this was not what he'd said when he came downstairs in the morning to find the family gathered together. And in response to Edwin's, 'Have fun with Kelly, bro?' he'd smirked in the usual Derek fashion.

Casey had been curt and distant at breakfast, hiding herself behind a novel and then kissing her mother and Lizzie before retiring again to her room to type up some assignment, which wasn't due in for several weeks. Bah. After the others left, Derek had been so bored. He'd rung Sam, who'd come round with that cd. The singer was American and young. She had a haunting voice and played acoustic guitar as if her hands were infinitely flexible. It was just like Sam to be listening to this folk shit, but for once Derek had actually allowed his friend to play most of the tracks and had even found himself humming along to one. Wow. All through the morning, Casey hadn't shown herself once and hadn't replied when Sam tapped on her door to say hi. Derek had raised his eyebrows in mute frustration. 'What can I say, Sammy boy! She just does not want to belong to the human race… and the angels sure don't want such a sulky face in their midst when they're going round administering Christmas cheer!'

He'd spoken loud enough for Casey to hear, and then gone downstairs to let Sam out. It was lunchtime, and he'd made himself a sandwich with all the essentials and much more. Feeling lonely in the gloomy house, he'd decided to make Casey one too as a peace offering, and filled it with what he thought were her favourite ingredients. Then he'd climbed the stairs, feeling oddly shy carrying the two plates. What would she think? Would she be pleased at his efforts? He hoped she wouldn't think this was going to be a common occurrence. Casey was always so quick to make a guy feel good about himself and damn if that didn't have the effect of making guys want to do even better. Before you knew it, you were acting all domesticated. Like George. Jeez. He was not going to turn into his dad!

The only outcome he hadn't expected was the one which actually transpired.

He'd knocked on her door, and she hadn't answered. Then he'd pushed it open with his shoulder to find her, just as he'd expected, clicking away at her keyboard. She'd minimised her screen the second he entered, swivelling to face him in her chair, her eyes darker than usual. The long-sleeved burgundy dress she wore had made her look like an old-fashioned heroine in one of the novels she loved. She had looked enchanting. And acted completely numb. As if they didn't know each other.

'I'm not hungry.'

'You've gotta be kidding me, Case! I saw how little you ate at breakfast; almost nothing. Now, come on down and eat with me, or let me stay here. Quit working!'

'No.' Not even _No Derek_. Just _No_.

Stubborn, mysterious, difficult girl.

Why was she so furious? Because that was just what he saw when she allowed anything into her eyes. Rage and pain. Perhaps not in that order, but there nonetheless.

Completely hurt and unsettled by her response, he'd responded more curtly than he'd meant to, placing the tray with her sandwich and drink beside her and moving backwards as he spoke.

'Okay, fine, suit yourself Princess. But don't come whining to me saying I never try for some sodding _family moments_ okay? I'm done trying with you.'

She'd opened her eyes really wide then, as if she was trying really, really hard not to retort, react or even whisper. But he really had been angry, and hadn't waited for her self-control to give.

Why was it always so damn hard trying to change anything with her? He'd gone back into his room and absently pressed play on his music system, only realising when the folk singer's thrilling voice blasted his eardrums that Sam had forgotten his cd.

Hours later in the pitch darkness of that winter afternoon, when he came out of his room to go to the bathroom, he'd seen the tray with her uneaten sandwich and undrunk drink just sitting outside her door, lettuce curling. That was just about as much of the memory as he could stomach. The implicit message embodied in that silent tray and the pain it had caused him were nothing compared to the guilt he still felt when he considered what he had done in retaliation and how it had all spiraled away from them both.

Now, returning to his room after shifting heavy furniture in Lizzie's and Marti's bed chambers, Derek found himself sweating. He wiped his arm across his forehead, pushing his thick hair back out of his eyes and wondering if Casey was going to allow him to rearrange her stuff or even to step foot in her room. All he'd got when he knocked on her door and told her what he was there was a muffled, 'Later, okay?'. She didn't want to talk to him so much that she didn't even want to fight. That was a bad sign. She didn't want to fight with him, maybe that was a good sign? Derek felt he was going berzerk as he stood there carrying a truckle bed and mattress that weighed a ton, debating with himself about her motives. Dropping them on the floor he went back to problem number one.

The rug in his room had to be pretty much spotless – at least to the naked eye – but there really wasn't much space there. And anyway, Derek did a quick calculation and decided that there would be no mattresses to spare after they'd made up all the beds for the guests. Lizzie and Marti could share the cushions on the floor.They were under five foot and would be less uncomfortable between the bed and the desk. _What?! _

He flushed, embarrassed at himself, refusing to credit that he was tallying the number of sleeping areas in the house; but then he sighed in acknowledgement that this too might be a symptom of his growing infatuation. He was going to make it impossible for Casey to find a reason to stay anywhere other than the place her mother had decreed; and as far as he was concerned, that was his bed.

Then with a start of shame he realised that it was well past three. Oh Shit!

He opened his curtains.

Outside the window soft white petals from spring trees floated past laden branches and landed in their neighbours' pool.

The air looked shiny and still, perfectly poised for whatever awaited; and Derek had a date.

On Friday he had promised to take Caitlin Connor to the cinema to see something she'd chosen. There he'd figured that if she was more engaged with the film then he'd have a better chance at getting to know her better. And he didn't mean her taste in movies. He was supposed to pick her up in an hour, and there was still so much to do.

He groaned. Why did he always have be so despicably predictable? Why couldn't he, just for once, have left school at the end of a week without pursuing his absurd quest to date a girl who would, finally and irrevocably, engage both his thoughts and his physical reactions in the same way as the passionate, exacting woman in the next room? But, then, on Friday he had known nothing of magnificent paper letters, unexpected guests, Sunday blues or secret silver linings.

**Love reviews as much as the rest of you! Come on!**


	8. Twilight

**I don't own LWD. I don't own the lyrics to **_**Twilight**_**. Dawn Landes does, and she's a genius.**

**(It feels so luxurious to have been able to write two chapters this weekend. I do like all my reviewers and just want to say thanks once again, even those of you who are getting impatient! That's what I'm like when I read your stories probably. But hey, there's a kind of pleasure in taking things slow too, don't you agree?)**

Previously: _Derek groaned. Why did he always have be so despicably predictable? Why couldn't he, just for once, have left school at the end of a week without pursuing his absurd quest to date a girl who would, finally and irrevocably, engage both his thoughts and his physical reactions in the same way as the passionate, exacting woman in the next room? But on Friday he had known nothing of magnificent paper letters, unexpected guests, Sunday blues or secret silver linings._

**Chapter Seven - Twilight**

'What took you so long?' Nora hiss-whispered at George as he opened the front door to usher their guests into the house. He rolled his eyes, indicating the group standing behind him on the porch.

Cornelia Richardson and her husband stepped forward to greet Nora and explain, 'We were caught up in the most awful bureaucracy, Nora! You can _hardly imagine_ the kinds of formalities we had to go through before they'd allow us to get what remains of the car towed. These _provincial officials_ are so ridiculous! You see, what caused the crash was that we hit something, and we weren't sure what it was because it just kept on going on and into the darkness of the woods. You'd have thought they'd be sympathetic, but you should have seen their faces!' Cornelia shuddered and her husband added, 'But of course the police saw the blood and kept us all there to give statements. Now we have no chance of making it to Toronto till tomorrow.'

They were both loud, confident people, used having their own way. Nora wilted under Cornelia's glare.

The other four visitors, Cornelia's mother Elsie-May, and the three Vernons from Oxford, England, were a revelation. Elsie-May was as different from her daughter as Nora could have imagined, bony and aristocratic, with a fine long nose and a twinkle in her eyes. Although she was wearing walking clothes and carried a simple wooden cane, you could tell that she was used to a different life-style and regarded this whole escapade as a kind of exotic adventure, much in the manner of a Safari.

Audrey and Peter Vernon looked as if they had met in a pantomime. Petite and charismatic, she spoke in a strong Barbadian accent and shook her dreadlocks emphatically at Nora in acknowledgement of her kindness.

'Oh _My!_ We never had intended to impose on you this way, my love, but Corny here just insisted you'd look after us! We didn't set out looking for trouble! _Ain't that the truth_!' Audrey seemed the friendliest of them all and very much at home, despite the new surroundings and lack of sleep. Corny? Nora almost giggled at her boss's silly nickname, but thinking of Tuesday, and the atmosphere if she allowed anything but her most professional demeanour to show, she kept her hilarity in check. George had to turn away to hide his amusement.

Peter, who looked like a typical Englishman, was fair-haired, exceedingly tall and forbiddingly silent, just nodded and shook hands with Nora before carrying two large suitcases into the hallway. And their son, Jack – Casey had composed herself completely by the time she heard their guests arrive – but when her mother introduced twenty-year old Jack Vernon to her she was suddenly jittery again. For he was not only soft-spoken and respectful in his demeanour, he was also one of the handsomest men Casey had ever met.

His intelligent black eyes assessed her rather obviously and seemed to find her a pleasing sight, for he laughed softly as they shook hands. She heard him mutter, 'Who would have thought...'

She couldn't quite take it all in, but before she knew it, Nora had asked her to show Jack and his parents to her room, which they would be using now that Derek had shifted all the furniture around to make space for two guest beds. Jack Vernon helped his father carry their luggage up the stairs, apologising to Casey as they climbed, 'We feel dreadful about moving you out of your room. This must feel like such an invasion of your weekend.' He had a strong, rich voice, almost like an actor, and didn't seem at all posh or distant like his father. Casey liked him immensely, and the fact that he wore spectacles put her at her ease, as it slightly hid his good looks.

'Oh Jack', his mother countered, making Casey laugh at her forthright manner, 'It's only for one night, and it's not like the girl is going to sleep _on the streets_ or something! You young ones, where's your sense of adventure? When I was young none of us had a room of our own anyway, your Uncle Darren and Uncle Gavin and Aunt Callie and I all bunked together.'

Casey shuddered, imagining what it would be like in her household if all the siblings shared a room permanently. There would certainly be blood!

Knowing that they must be in need of refreshment or sleep or both, Casey left father and son in her room, showed Audrey the bathroom, handed out clean towels and then went downstairs to help Nora with what was proving to be a rather awkward conversation and an even more complicated preparation for the evening meal.

By five, when all the adults except her were seated around the dining table, Casey was quite exhausted: from trying to ensure George didn't reveal anything Nora had confided to him about her boss, in public or at least to her face; from taking stuff to Edwin, who was still feeling weak and feverish; from keeping Marti occupied and from trying to carry on a conversation with Jack Vernon about his home town, Oxford, which she had heard so much about.

She'd learned that he had hated his school, which hadn't been co-ed, but was now much happier studying Classics at a college called Christchurch. She listened to his descriptions of his fusty old tutors – the dons – with laughter, and envied the ease with which he said he could read both Latin and Greek. When he told her that one of his tutors had made a racist remark to him about his family in the first term, and that he had simply been too frightened to report the man, Casey was outraged.

'I would have shouted at him! I really would. I'd have reported him for you then and there,' She exclaimed. 'How dare he! Does he think we're in the nineteenth century?'

'Hmm, that's very kind of you to say, and rather brave. But Casey, perhaps it's easier to fight other people's battles than your own?' The young man had looked at her searchingly, and Casey had blushed, recognising the truth behind his words and feeling a little foolish. She wondered irrelevantly if he had a girlfriend, and if so what she felt when he looked at her like that.

'Do lots of the professors at your University think like that man did? I mean, do people still think about the colour of your skin in that way in England?' She had asked to escape from the moment. And they'd gotten into a conversation about attitudes to race in Canada and in Great Britain and even in English Literature, that made her feel that she hadn't thought long or hard enough about so many things in the real world and must seem horribly naïve and self centred, even to Emily. They continued conversing eagerly until Casey had to carry the dishes to the table and place the last of the chairs for Peter Vernon, who still, unsurprisingly, had barely opened his mouth. Cornelia was complaining about taxation and her mother was chipping in from time to time.

Lizzie and Marti retired to the lounge with bowls of noodles and the injunction not to spill on the couch. Casey sighed and sat down beside them, simply too tired to eat and listened with half an ear to Cornelia and her husband, now holding forth on their visit to Great Britain, where they had met the Vernons and become friends, over a decade ago.

Regretting the lack of space which prevented her sitting next to Jack to continue their discussion, Casey was nevertheless rather glad that she could get away from the group for a while, for she was beginning to wonder where Derek was. Thinking about him was becoming an addiction. She was lucky if she could go a few hours without doing so and God help her if she didn't get to see him soon.

She had seen him pull on his jacket a couple of hours ago and head out, after several hours hefting furniture around for Nora.

He had glanced at her as he left. She had felt his eyes on her, contemplative, as she conversed with Jack Vernon, and had turned to meet his glance, giving him the slightest of frowns, just to let him know that she knew he was there.

He had raised his eyebrows then, turning away, and slammed the door behind him.

Now it was evening, and he still wasn't back. Not that she had any right to expect he would be: apart from the fact that she had treated him like a stranger all day, he'd done more than enough for their guests already, and had helped her and Lizzie to rearrange their rooms. If he was trying to prove a point, then it was working. She suddenly didn't feel so sure that she was the more grown-up of the two of them, or that she was in the right and he in the wrong. Certainly his date must seem a lot more pleasant to him than her company.

Feeling sad as she always did when he wasn't around, and yet inexplicably more relaxed than when he was home, Casey leaned back on the couch with her eyes closed and a snippet of song that Derek had enigmatically played earlier in the day came back to her,

_Another Starless night,_

_Another dim streetlight,_

_You turn your head just right_

_The street becomes a Sky_

_Shooting Stars go by_

_They spark and they die,_

_Mmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm_

_You love twilight_

_Twilight, twilight…_

She hummed softly under her breath, returned unwittingly to the day when she'd first heard that song emanating from Derek's room.

At first she smiled. It was so un-Derek-like, with its slow melody and romantic lyrics. But she wasn't prepared for all the memories of dismay and misery that accompanied this slight acoustic foray and gasped as these swirled into her mind.

Although little had been said, it had felt like one of their worst fights ever, far more staining than any of Derek's pranks or her self-righteous reprimands, and completely suited to the bitterly cold winter's day on which it had occurred.

Sam had been round to hang out with Derek, she recollected, and after he'd left, Derek had made her a sandwich. Even now, recalling the unintended insult of that gesture, she snorted. In her head, on that morning, her annoyance had seemed perfectly reasonable and justified. First he smirks to Edwin about his date the previous evening, impervious to the nervous stupor his actions have been putting her into; and then he makes her a sandwich. As if that would compensate her for all the sleepless nights lying awake torturing herself thinking about him and all his other dates. As if _being nice_ is somehow the pinnacle of what he feels he can offer her! She'd been like that for months, ever since her fateful sponsored hike.

When he'd stood in front of her holding out the tray, his body graceful and languid as ever, his eyes dancing with what seemed to be a sense of his own wonderfulness – was that even a word? – her outrage had found expression in a single monosyllabic repulse.

And then she'd left the untouched tray outside her room, a deliberate rejection of his overture and his angry words.

So, first he made her think about him day and night in the way no sister should ever have to think about her brother nor any other relative for that matter, and then he wanted to be her family? _She'd show him_. That was how she'd been thinking when she set the tray down.

But then, as always with Casey when it came to her wayward stepbrother, she had found herself unable to sustain the anger or the sulk that accompanied it; had, in fact, had a whole turn of conscience and decided to remedy the situation by cooking him dinner. After all, it was Christmas week, it was snowing, and the rest of the family were away. All they had was each other, so why not try to get along. Just for an evening. Besides, she'd started to feel just a little guilty for turning the triumph of sandwich delivering joy into a crushing exercise in humiliation. If Derek had understood the meaning of the untouched food, then he would be hurt. And even if he had hurt her by dating, and flaunting it, she still didn't want to hurt him back. Oh God, no. She really didn't ever want to hurt him at all.

And so, feeling chastened and not a little hungry, Casey had descended to the kitchen and switched on the lights only to find that the power had suddenly deserted them. Not put off by this, she had cooked meatballs and spaghetti in the gathering gloom, lighted candles, set the dining table. Her apron was tied in a neat double bow around her waist and she had on the same wine red dress she'd donned in the morning. She'd washed her face and done her hair. Outside it was snowing more heavily. Her heart had been thumping in anticipation.

Just as she'd been about to call out to him from downstairs, he'd come down himself, dressed warmly as if he were about to go out. He sped through the kitchen and the lounge as if on a mission, stopping only to ask her curtly, 'expecting company?' as he'd zipped up his coat and wrapped his scarf.

'Yes, since you ask', she'd told him, leaning against the kitchen counter, white faced, her knees shaking, slim hands clasped behind her. She would not allow her humiliation to show.

'Have fun then. And don't expect me back tonight.' He'd opened the door and gusts of wind had slung crisp snowflakes into the hall.

She didn't dare voice the anxiety that sprang to her heart, the arguments that came to her lips: _in this snow? Will you drive safely? You're not supposed to be out all night. What will George say? I don't want to be alone in this house all night in this weather. _And of course:_ where are you going… who are you going to meet?_

As Derek had shut the door, she had let go of the counter and sunk to her knees, wrapping her trembling arms around herself. In her head she kept saying, 'I deserved that. I did. I started it. It's my fault. He really hates me. I've got to call Emily. At least Emily loves me.' And then she could barely form a coherent thought, because the crying had begun and totally engulfed her.

Utterly unsuspecting about the effect his actions were having on her, ten minutes later Derek had stepped back into the hallway. He'd tried to start the Prince a dozen times and failed. It wasn't worth asking Sam to come pick him up in this weather, so he'd texted him 'rain check', rather glad that their evening together with Sam's girlfriend and her cousin was off.

Feeling awkward about telling Casey he was going to stay in after all and spoil whatever fun she had set up for herself, he'd tiptoed to the kitchen to grab some food and take it to his room. He couldn't bear the thought of watching her with anyone else and he'd decided that after the rejection of his overtures earlier he wasn't about to have his ego bitten again by offering to bear her company until her date arrived.

And so it was that he'd almost stumbled over her sobbing form as she lay curled on the icy floor, wet curls sticking in confusion to her cheeks, apron still on. Casey could still remember how dizzyingly brown his eyes had looked with the candlelight reflected in them as he peered down at her in confusion and fear.

'Oh God, Case! Are you ill?' was all he'd asked. And, mortified beyond belief by the gratitude flooding her soul, she'd simply nodded, and allowed him to lift her gently from the floor.

There'd been no explanations and no further talk. Derek had helped Casey into bed and covered her with her blankets, sitting easily beside her and stroking her hair until she'd fallen asleep.

He'd returned downstairs and fiddled around in the fuse box until he got the power back on. Then, true to form, he'd filled two plates with the delicious looking dinner Casey had prepared and wolfed them down in comfort as he watched old reruns of his favourite shows on television. She knew this, because when she'd come down at dawn to get something to eat she'd found him asleep in his chair, the empty plates on the floor beside him, and the TV flickering in the gloom. The candles, like her hopes, had all burned down by then.

'Casey! Where are you!' Casey started back into the present, glad to be rid of that depressing memory. Marti and Lizzie were peering at her in amusement. They'd finished their noodles and were asking her if she wanted to eat. Apparently, Nora had been calling her for ten minutes. Brushing herself down and adjusting her hair, she stepped self-consciously towards their guests and began to help Nora clear away. Jack asked her a serious question in a most pleasant voice and she began to tell him about her school, and what she was hoping to do in the future; but they were soon distracted by their parents, and particularly Cornelia, demanding to know what they were going to do for the rest of the evening and why 'the young ones were always off in a corner'.

Elsie-May suggested that they might play cards, and so to George's dismay, they all found themselves in the lounge, learning the rules to some obscure English card game. As Jack knew it well, he agreed to partner with Nora for the evening. Casey excused herself, saying she needed to study, and went to check on Edwin, whose bed had been moved into the basement with Nora and George for the night. When she was satisfied that his fever was coming down, Casey began to wonder where she was to go for the next few hours. Her room was crammed with the Vernons' luggage, its fresh lavender smell mingling with her own perfume. Lizzie's room was equally out of bounds, and although all her books were now on Derek's desk, she felt uneasy sitting in his room when he wasn't there. It would only make her wonder more fiercely where he was and whom he was with.

Seeing everyone seemingly pleasantly involved in the game - except George, who was casting longing looks at his case files - Casey donned her cardigan and slipped out onto the porch in the cool spring air.

Twilight was her favourite time of day. Everything was drenched in a mysterious honey-like sheen; it was chilly but not so cold that she was in any discomfort. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stared out across the drive, thinking of the wording she would use in her apologetic refusal letter to the University. As if they would want to know, or particularly care for her real reasons. They'd probably think she'd found an even better place to study. And strangely, since she'd made her decision, she felt as if she had indeed found at least a modicum of calm, and a better place to be, because all the tension of knowing she was going to be separated from Derek was now at bay. At least her unresolved feelings for him would not now need to be destroyed in honour of her eagerness to study literature. What was literature if she didn't have peace of mind?

As if on cue, she heard an engine, and Derek parked the Prince, completely spoiling her view in a miasma of metal and smoke. She had a chance to look at him, though, before he saw her, and she realised that he was smiling to himself in a most peculiar manner, as if in anticipation of something that only he understood the value of. And it was a real smile, not his frequent self-satisfied smirk. He started when he saw her, as if she'd been in his thoughts as he was in hers; then he lowered himself onto the porch step beside her and asked in a companionable voice,

'Lover boy gone to bed?'

Instead of taking umbrage at this sneering reference to Jack Vernon, Casey sensed the jealousy which fuelled it and replied sensibly, 'You should chat to him. He's really smart and nice. You'd like him.'

'I would?'

'That's what I think.'

'What did you guys talk about? I take it he's not a hockey fan?' Derek asked, genuinely curious.

'Literature, our different countries, racist professors.'

'Really? Wow. He really is smart then. Did you find your rose-coloured view of the world a little dented, Princess?'

'Um hm. Oh, I mean, no.' Casey thought about what Derek had just asked her. It was a good question, and deserved a proper answer, even though the person asking it had just been on a date. With someone else.

Making a mental note to ask him what film he'd seen, she replied,

'Actually, it did make me think about all the things I just take for granted. I've never talked to Emily about what she feels in all these years. I don't notice people's colour or their origins, so I just assume that that is how everyone in our generation is. And of course, it's not true.'

' Space Case! Even I can't believe you're that naïve. Don't you even watch _the news_? Have you any idea how badly some people get treated or how it's always the same old reasons why nothing changes? Or let me think, it's not as easy to be keen about vile things, is it?' Derek's tone was slightly bemused.

A fresh breeze had picked up and Casey shivered. He was right to be surprised at her. She was beginning to feel that books, discipline and intelligence were not the only ways one could learn about the important things in life. Derek took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Casey glanced at him, then looked at her watch. It was past eight.

'We'd better go in'. Her cheeks were glowing from their conversation. Derek had all but scolded her and yet she felt as if he'd paid her some huge and delicate compliment.

'I'd rather we just stayed out here.' She caught him looking down at her with open warmth, his marvellous lips slightly quirked, and his eyes darker than usual; she found herself smiling in response, trying not to stare too openly at his mouth. Out here it felt as if they were really alone, just the two of them, and not embedded in the context which sometimes pushed them to quarrel or despise each other. Out here they could almost taste the unspoken desire that flavoured all their mundane interactions.

'I know what you mean. That Richardson woman sets my teeth on edge. But we should probably go in, at least to help put the kids to bed.'

'Typical, Casey. Too soft to live.' He said teasingly but there was no malice in his voice.

Twilight had faded to complete dusk. Clasping her hand he pulled her to her feet, both of them studiously avoiding eye contact as an undercurrent of pleasure and agitation ran between them. Casey suddenly realised that perhaps the night with Derek and her and Lizzie and Marti was going to be an adventure after all. And she shivered in anticipation, suddenly and intuitively aware what Derek had been smiling about when she first caught sight of him.

**Now, dear readers, don't yell at me. I don't know when I can update, but the next chapter is already written in my head, so you know what's coming when I do. Truly Dasey!**


	9. With Your Body

**I don't own LWD. And, thank you reviewers. You're the best. Sorry it's taken me a week. Life… (without Derek).**

**Previously**_**:**__ Twilight had faded to complete dusk. Clasping Casey's hand Derek pulled her to her feet, both of them studiously avoiding eye contact as an undercurrent of pleasure and agitation ran between them. She suddenly realised that perhaps the night with Derek and her and Lizzie and Marti was going to be fun after all. And she shivered in anticipation, suddenly and intuitively aware what Derek had been smiling about when she first caught sight of him._

**Chapter Eight – With Your Body**

Casey softly disengaged her hand from Derek's as they entered the hallway. She knew she would have to face a house full of guests for at least a few minutes before she could be alone again, and she wanted the colour that now suffused her cheeks to fade a little before she confronted her mother, or broached the swirling pool of feelings between her stepbrother and herself.

She watched him climb the stairs without glancing back at her. How was he always so sure of himself? And why did her heart pound in dancing spirals every time she watched him move?

'Casey! Darling, did you study good?' Nora greeted her, smiling up from a hand of cards. Jack Vernon too looked up and smiled a warm greeting.

'Yes, thanks, mom. How're you guys doing?'

'Amazingly well,' sighed Audrey Vernon. Then Peter spoke almost for the first time in Casey's hearing, 'Jack and Nora have had all the luck tonight. It's a good thing they didn't agree to play for real cash.'

George was nowhere in sight; neither was Elsie-May, who must have retired for the night. Casey glanced at Cornelia Richardson involuntarily as Audrey's husband spoke, and saw her looking daggers at Nora. This could not be good.

The woman just hated to lose, be the game one of skill or chance. In fact, be it in life or for real. She was just unbelievably competitive, as Casey knew from the many times her mother had come home looking utterly fagged after a day with her boss, boosting her ego and trying to avoid the appearance of defeat at all costs. But tonight, buoyed by the success of her day with their difficult guests, and by the kind attentiveness of Audrey Vernon's son Jack, Nora was looking relaxed and pretty. Not at all apprehensive about the fact that she'd been winning at cards against her boss.

Casey decided she had to allow her mother this respite, even if it meant she would be going up to bed later than she'd anticipated. She seated herself next to Cornelia and her husband, and for the next twenty minutes proceeded in a quiet and subtle manner to satisfy the woman's need for attention by asking her all sorts of questions about her company and its brilliance. Soon everyone was smiling and listening to the Richardson's boast about their respective successes in business and private life.

Then, just as Casey was glumly beginning to think she'd be here all night, listening to the dreadful boasting of a couple she was fast coming to despise, the clock struck nine, and Nora asked her gently if she'd mind taking Marti and Lizzie upstairs to bed. Casey said she would be delighted, and happily said goodnight to everyone. Jack rose to kiss her goodbye, and Casey smiled up at him in pleasure as he told her,

'We'll be gone by the time you get up in the morning, but it's been an absolute pleasure meeting you Casey McDonald.' Casey and he exchanged e-mail addresses; everyone rose to hug her, and then Casey grabbed a sleepy Marti into her arms and headed up the stairs.

It was thus that Casey found herself for the first time that day in Derek's room, with her two younger sisters in tow and a head full of thoughts about College, unwritten letters and tingling touches.

As soon as she saw the cushions on the floor between his desk and the bed, where Derek was sitting listening to something on his ipod, Casey understood that there was no way she would fit alongside her sisters. It was a fait accompli.

He looked up at her, casually, without taking off his headphones, but she sensed the anxiety in his glance.

He had arranged the room; was she happy with it? She looked away, unable to let him see the giddiness overtaking her. Since when did he seek her approval? In fact, since when did he want her beside him, and Marti on the ground? This was an invitation and she had no doubt about it.

She could hear the soft thud of raindrops hitting the window of Derek's room and the louder thud of her heart.

Without agonising over it, as she might have done in other less crowded circumstances, she made the girls lie down side by side, sitting squashed between them for ten minutes while she told Marti a swift story about a prince who lived on the moon and dined on cheese which he carved from the ground of his home.

'What a cheesy story', Lizzie murmured, smiling, as Casey finished the tale and hugged them. They both kissed her and covered themselves in their comfortable quilts. 'Night Case', 'Night, night.' Marti was already snuggling up with her monkey and her eyes closed. Lizzie was humming to herself.

By the look of it, they were exhausted and would soon be asleep. It was just half past nine; and Monday was a national holiday.

Casey quietly tiptoed to the bathroom to get into her pyjamas. She went through her usual routine in a hurry, realising that their guests would soon walk up the stairs to use the facilities.

Somewhere between putting moisturiser on her skin and brushing her teeth, she realised that her hands were shaking. Snatches of her earlier conversations with Derek and also with Jack Vernon raced through her head. One of them had as good as told her she was beautiful. The other had, in a more subtle way, indicated that he liked spending time with her, and that he almost trusted her. Both of them had shown her things about herself that she'd badly needed to know. And this had given her confidence.

Footsteps passed outside and she snapped out of her reverie and knocked her hand against the sink. Somehow she'd managed to splash water all over her nightclothes as she rinsed her mouth. What a drag. And why was she being so clumsy all of a sudden?

Back in Derek's room, she sucked on her sore knuckles. Derek was now lying on his back on the side of the bed closest to the wall, arms behind his head, in a brown tee shirt and shorts. The main light was off and only his lamp lit the room with a slightly eerie glow. He was looking straight at her, alert and slightly amused. She thought he was getting ready to make one of he usual witticisms at her expense and suddenly she almost welcomed that; at least it would break this suffocating tension she had begun to experience at the thought of climbing into his bed. Instead he simply patted the mattress next to him.

Unable to stall any longer, Casey stepped gingerly across the feet of her sleeping siblings and sat down. With painfully stiff movements, she stretched herself out along the very outer edge of his bed, careful not even to nudge Derek with her elbow. She lay like that on her side in silence for some minutes, her left hand trailing down slightly so that it almost touched Lizzie's leg. Derek made no sound behind her, except that she could once more hear a slight beat emanating from his headphones.

More footsteps went past the door and she held her breath hoping that no-one would knock to ask for anything. She wished fervently that she'd switched off the lamp. Then she felt glad that it was on. There was nothing improper in lying on the edge of one's stepbrother's bed with the light on, was there?

Casey's throat was so dry she wondered if she was coming down with the flu. She could barely swallow, and for some reason, she was suddenly too terrified to turn her head because of the pair of brown eyes she knew would be there, staring, waiting to overturn her reason and her common sense. She heard a clock chime ten. This was going to be such a long night. She sighed.

--

Derek was lying equally motionless. It was ten o' clock and he was anything but tired.

He had been puzzling over Casey's behaviour since she entered the room with the younger ones. Was she annoyed with him about the sleeping arrangements? Casey was always talking to him about what it was and wasn't right to do, the impropriety of this and the immorality of that. For years now she had ruled his conscience, if not his actions. But there were times when he sensed that she was wrong. Clinging to ideals which did not make sense. For that reason he had made sure she had no say in where anyone slept.

It was quite possible that she was utterly furious at being placed in a position like this. He felt agonised and miserable, but managed to hide it by acting as relaxed as a tiger and giving her most of the bed to do what she liked with. He switched his music back on, but left the headphones on the bed between them. A tinny beat issued from them, making the room feel a little less wired but still unbearably hot.

Shifting slightly, Derek sat up and pushed his window open a bit. A cool, wet breeze stormed over them, bringing with it the smell of fresh leaves and earth. Then he heard Casey draw in her breath and sigh.

It was something about that small lonely sound which made Derek act.

He had a band he was extremely fond of playing on his ipod. He put one strand of the earphones in his left ear and then without asking her, he placed his hand on Casey's arm, turned her slightly towards him and inserted the twin earphone in her right ear. It was the sort of arrogant gesture he knew might irritate her. But Casey's gaze when it met his was anything but annoyed. In fact, the fear he recognised totally surprised him. How could she be scared of him? This was brave Casey, facer down of bullies; defender of all scared kids. She could face anything.

Reaching out again to stroke her arm, he motioned for her to relax and listen to the music. She started to shake at his touch.

He didn't understand that it was herself she was most afraid of.

Suddenly, looking into the darkening blue of her irises, he found his own mouth dry, as it had been that evening weeks ago when she'd seated herself next to him on the couch for family film night. Damn it. There was nothing on this whole earth he wanted to do more than pull her towards him and hold on with all his strength. But she seemed to be imploring him not to. So he made a choice to do what he thought she would want. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he spoke just to halt her shivering.

'Casey.'

She didn't say anything but she was looking at him curiously, and she moved slightly closer so she could hear him. It eased the taut wires on the headphones as she came towards him and he smelt her light perfume, toothpaste and flowers and soap, fresh and appealing.

'I wanted to tell you something earlier, when we were outside.' She raised her eyebrows in enquiry. The shaking had almost stopped. Derek reached out both his hands and pulled her gently into the enclosure of his arms, feeling in one second the curves of her body beneath her damp night shirt. She moved willingly now and lay with her face almost touching his cheek. Derek's voice was so low he wondered if he was actually speaking to her or to himself. And when she heard what he wanted to tell her, she wondered where this was going to lead.

'When you first applied to university, I didn't understand what it would mean. I was kind've annoyed with you for being so high and mighty about your grades and thinking you'd get a scholarship and _I thought _I didn't want you to get one because it would bring you down a peg or two to be left here, at home, with the rest of us.' He saw hurt start in her eyes, and she pulled the single headphone out of her ear, which had the effect of yanking his one out too. She wasn't going to hear him out.

But instead of moving away, she stretched out her arm and switched off the lamp; then she moved closer, so close in fact that they could feel each other's breath raising the small hairs on their skin, smell and sense each minute thing about the other. Reassured, he went on.

'Then I thought and thought about how I was feeling and I realised that I wasn't just jealous of your talent, or envious that you'd be going away to new and better things. _I_ don't mind our family. I _like_ living at home actually and I've always felt quite happy to go to a local college here instead of to some big old university.'

It was dark, but their eyes had adjusted in the light from the window, and Casey was staring right at him without blinking.

'It just slowly occurred to me that I was upset because I was anxious. I didn't want you to go away, princess. Because that would mean no more us. No more Derek and Casey, no more fights or banter or anything at all. It was like life was going to end when you left. I was feeling so sad I couldn't sleep; food didn't taste right.' He paused, 'Didn't the thought of our being apart ever bother you?'

There was silence. They could hear their sisters' soft breathing. And the hiss of rain on the leaves. And the call of a night bird somewhere.

'Say something.'

But Casey didn't say anything. She couldn't say anything. Her throat, at first so dry, was now full of suppressed tears.

Without thinking she moved herself completely against him, until they were pressed together so close that there was nowhere to go. His arms were tight around her waist and her hands smoothed over his whole face, feverishly touching the lips she'd dreamed and thought and fantasized about so much in the past months, the forehead she always wanted to caress and then on, into his thick dark hair and back down to his lips and against his teeth, which smiled at her, until she felt as if he was part of a shooting star in her sky.

'Oh my God, Derek. Don't you know anything at all?'

They were kissing then, lips brushing against lips, fingers measuring and tracing tiny delicate patterns on cheeks and ears and eyebrows, each taking the other's touch as complicity in this joy.

Marti groaned and turned over in her sleep, her knee banging against Derek's computer table. They barely heard her. Rain splashed lightly on their toes, falling from the window in a kind of blessing. They did not feel it. A clock struck eleven. They paid it no heed.

Wrapped in each lengthening kiss, they thought neither ahead nor behind, of reasons nor consequences. And strangely, although both were excited by the passion they felt, they did not think about where kissing might lead them. This was simply how it had been meant to be for years and they had already wasted too much time.

'Casey.' Derek sounded hoarse. 'Tell me in words all the things I don't know.'

And now, relieved of months of pain and tension, Casey who was not quite the girl she used to be, but more of a woman replied.

'I could never leave you. That's the only thing you don't know, my stupid, beautiful, amazing sweetheart. Not unless I died. Now, _you tell me all the things I don't know_.'

She put a finger against Derek's lips as he opened them to speak his happiness.

'Uh huh. Not in words. With your body, tell me.'


	10. Dreaming with Open Eyes

**Like the rest of you, I do not own LWD. I'm the happy owner of my story, though. Thank you so much reviewers - as they say reader are good, reviewers better. I hope the ending of the last chapter did not mislead – as it was meant as a cliff-hanger; read on and see!**

**Previously:** '_Casey.' Derek sounded hoarse. 'Tell me in words all the things I don't know.'_

_Relieved of months of pain and tension, Casey, who was not quite the girl she used to be, but more of a woman, replied, 'I could never leave you. That's the only thing you don't know, my stupid, beautiful, amazing sweetheart. Not unless I died. Now, you tell me all the things I don't know.'_

_She put a finger against Derek's lips as he opened them to speak his happiness._

'_Uh huh. Not in words. With your body, tell me.'_

**Chapter Nine - Dreaming with Open Eyes**

It was Monday, an expectant late spring day, the air still and fresh, the light slanted in through the windows at such an angle that the clarity of each object in the near-distance seemed unreal, too sharp and precise, like something in a computer game. If you'd seen those mundane things on screen, the kitchen tap - blasting sunbeams across the wall, a copper pan, almost translucent on its nail, you would have said that some graphic designer had gone crazy and made the game more like life than was possible. And yet, here they were, and this was reality. Although it was past noon, Casey (albeit with an open notebook in front of her), Edwin (surrounded by comics and his cereal bowl), Derek (leaning back on his stool, observing everyone quizzically) and Lizzie (neatly dressed, tapping her foot, full of energy) were still sitting around the breakfast table.

George and Nora were helping Marti and Dimi to set up a bird feeder in the garden. By the sounds of it, George was not having much luck. At his scrambled yelp as the hammer hit his knuckle for the third time in an hour, the four teenagers laughed in unison. A languid ease seemed to have unfurled over the house in the wake of the guests' departure that morning in a specially chauffeured company vehicle, and no one was questioning it.

Edwin was clearly better; having suffered nausea for the better part of two days, he was now ravenously hungry and the only one of the four still actually eating. Lizzie was sitting at his elbow making annoying comments about his manner of stuffing his mouth, then trying to clear up the mess he made; the two of them appeared oddly unaware of the change which had overtaken their respective siblings.

'Ugh! I just _can not_ do this!' Pretending she was revising for her finals, Casey was trying to scribble down notes for her letter to the University of Toronto. Why she was doing this complicated and dreaded task in public, open to potential interruption or discovery, she had no idea; except that she knew by now that no one in the family was usually remotely interested in anything she was getting stressed about; and so had decided that the apparently boring task of revision was good enough to disguise her true purpose. Also, all the rooms were still knee-deep in the chaos caused by the Richardson's visit and no one was keen to set everything to rights just as yet. So, technically, she told herself, she felt better out in the places that looked the most normal: the ones which had the furniture as it should be.

'Maybe I can help?' Derek's voice was curious and teasing. He knew he was asking for trouble.

'Oh what? Since when did you graduate out of ape school? I didn't think they taught animals how to write in sentences!' Casey met his eyes, smiling, equally warm.

'Ouch!' He stuck out his tongue at her, unconsciously echoing his usual way of irking her. Except that everything today was different. Today, he felt as if someone had painted a silken screen around them or dusted their whole world with Marti's shining glitter-dust.

Once their eyes met, it seemed simply too much effort to look away. Without intending to, Derek had reached across the table and started to curl his fingers around the slim hand that held the pen. Their hearts began a casual race. One. Two. His thumb brushed her wrist. Casey mock-frowned at him, indicating their younger brother and sister.

He withdrew his hand and she pouted, immediately wanting it back and stepping on his ankle to emphasise her feeling.

'_What!_ What the heck'd you do that for? So contrary!' Derek's words were sharp, but he couldn't keep the laughter from his voice, so sure was he that Casey was beating him up for giving in to her scruples and dropping her hand.

Finally Edwin and Lizzie looked up at them, made suspicious by the lack of rancour in their banter.

Edwin was most bemused, for he had missed two days of their company; days which had been particularly unusual. Lizzie too was puzzled, but not as much. When she had woken that morning at nine, she'd found herself and Marti alone in the room; Marti was awake and reading a book, upside down, beside her. Sheets and blankets were tangled everywhere on the bed next to them, but there was no sign of Derek or of Casey.

She didn't know where they were. She had slept soundly all night. Except that at one point she had woken to push Marti's arm off her and had thought she'd heard low voices. But, never one to interfere, she'd gone right back to sleep. So, what had happened to bring about this startling rapport between her older sister and Derek?

Casey tore her page of notes into shreds and flung them at the bin, narrowly missing it and causing a mess of confetti. She then had to get up and put them all in the trash one by one, realising as she did so that since this was paper it should be going into the paper recycling tray. She didn't look too amused. Edwin on the other hand joined in Derek's laughter. _Girls! And their rotten aim…_ Oops – did one of them say that aloud?

As if she knew what they were thinking, Casey turned, about to let them feel her sharp tongue. But the new universe that she now inhabited meant that a single glance from Derek was enough to make her lose her rational train of thought. Standing somewhat inelegantly in bare feet, a shirt of Derek's and denim shorts, with a crumpled fist full of paper in one hand and her notebook in the other, she was inexplicably and idiotically grinning at him, all annoyed retorts dissolved into memories of the night before.

Nothing, she thought, was ever going to make her forget. Even if they ended up tearing each other apart, even if he left her, betrayed her, destroyed her, even if she despised him, tormented him, abandoned him – the undertow of respect and trust they'd experienced would pull them back together. They'd been pressed tight in each other's arms, on his bed, more intimate than either of them had ever imagined, and in response to Derek's honesty she had just put her limitless affection for him into words. Now, Casey's smile faltered as she remembered how she had wanted to abandon all her former life for something unexpected and long anticipated in the dark.

It was if she could no longer see the straight lines of the road along which she'd walked quietly since she was a small girl, and Derek had simply understood this, accepted responsibility for her, and guided them across something that might have hurt them both.

'You think I don't know another way of telling you what I feel about you?' He'd whispered against her hair. 'You don't think the great Venturi is interested in anything but _physical_ stuff?' Stroking her back, slow and rhythmic, as you would a child in pain. Because when she'd realised he was stalling, refusing her request, Casey had allowed the suppressed tears to fall, the high crest of her confession and her delight in his touch suddenly making her feel unbearably humiliated.

But Derek had kept hold of her, brought his thumbs up and pushed the tears off her cheeks, then kissed the saltiness they'd left behind.

'Crying? Who's being foolish one now, Space Case?' Silence, then, more seriously, 'Did I really upset you?'

Hearing the tenderness and impatience warring in his voice, she'd forced herself to respond, 'It's okay. I'm okay.'

'But you're clearly not okay, Case. So just tell me why you're this upset.' A gust of rainy breeze from the open window had flung itself over their feet; involuntarily they intertwined, despite the fact that the protagonists were tense.

'You…you...' She was trying not to sob; trying to be quiet and not wake her sisters. 'You are willing to do anything and everything, with anyone else, but not with me?' She sounded like such a grief-stricken child that Derek felt little of the usual sting her words might have carried and had time to think about their cause. And, of course, the fact that he was holding her and that her hands were against his chest, gave him a patience that he did not normally possess.

'You think I would just sleep _with anyone_? That it's just something Derek Venturi does?' She didn't respond. 'Okay, so it might come as a surprise to you, Case, and I admit I may date loads of girls, and even have made out with them, but I don't – I'm not actually – I'm neither as experienced nor as casual about taking things further – as you seem to think.' Why was he stammering? It was the truth, whatever people said, whatever he'd allowed them to suspect, and she had to believe him.

'You're not kidding me the way you did with Edwin on his birthday, remember, when you wanted him to come out of the cupboard?' He stifled a laugh at the genuine uncertainty in her voice.

'Not kidding.' He risked pulling back from her slightly and looking at her in the dimness. She had certainly stopped crying. She was studying his face just as he studied hers, biting her lower lip.

'But you do like me? You didn't refuse because you don't like me?' Casey had sounded more confident again, suddenly buoyed by the thought that Derek was more like her than she'd thought, that maybe – was it even possible? – he'd been waiting for her as she had waited so silently and impatiently for him.

'You have no idea _how much_ I like you, okay, Princess?' Delight sizzled through her, from her toes to her scalp. She'd buried her face against his shoulder. He'd given her a squeeze to reassure her. Then, deliberately allowing the emotions flowing between them to simmer, they'd snuggled against each other, ignoring the sparks, relaxed but not sleepy, and Derek had murmured, 'Heck, Case, you caught me in my one moment of weakness! If you ask me again now I swear I won't refuse…' and she'd laughed. Really laughed, wanting him, and knowing he wanted her, but accepting of the fact that there was really no need for haste. No need at all.

The front door slammed open and Marti came barrelling into the room, followed closely by a laughing Nora. Casey was catapulted out of her reverie only to realise that both Edwin and Lizzie were casting weird glances at Derek and her. How long had they been grinning at each other? This was absurd, standing here dreaming with their eyes open so that anyone could guess their thoughts. Casey blushed and turned to her mother.

'Come and see our magic bird feeder! _Come now!_' Marti grabbed hold of Derek but was looking at Casey as she screeched. The whole family trooped out to where Dimi and George were surveying a swaying pole and a wormy looking contraption mounted on it.

'Dad – that's not just a birdfeeder, it's a work of art.' Derek sounded so serious that Marti was completely delighted. George groaned, but didn't disillusion his little daughter.

'Just glad there's no wind today.' Derek muttered to Casey, making her giggle. Her laugher in turn brought his eyes to her radiant face. There was no wind. She was still barefoot, and her braid swung charmingly over her shoulder, accentuating the curve of her cheekbones. There was nothing and no one else in the entire world he'd rather look at.

Catching his mood, Casey said softly, 'Go help George put the house to rights, and then make an excuse so we can go for a walk together.' She was half expecting him to refuse, to tell her to go do it herself, as he would have done had she asked him a month ago, but instead he just said to Nora,

'Okay if Case and I sort out the upstairs before we head to the mall? Be nice to get all the stinky girl stuff out of my room…' and Nora's cheerful gratitude, the absence of any anxiety about the two of them actually doing something fun together, had been just one of the satisfactions of that shimmering, still, sensual afternoon.

**Want to know more of their adventures in life and love... **


	11. Shimmering Afternoon

**I don't own the show. Hey readers, this is just a short one. I want to try and show how things constantly move back and forth between these two, nothing's ever certain or fixed...**

_Previously: Catching his mood, Casey said softly, 'Go help George put the house to rights, and then make an excuse so we can go for a walk together.' She was half expecting him to refuse, to tell her to go do it herself, as he would have done had she asked him a month ago, but instead he just said to Nora, 'Okay if Case and I sort out the upstairs before we head to the mall? Be nice to get all the stinky girl stuff out of my room…' and Nora's cheerful gratitude, the absence of any anxiety about the two of them actually doing something fun together, had been just one of the satisfactions of that shimmering, still, sensual afternoon._

**Chapter 10 – Shimmering Afternoon**

'Where shall we go?' Derek shook his head, thinking. He wanted to go somewhere they could be alone, where they would not bump into Sam or Emily or anyone else who'd be able to read Casey's face. Scratch that. In fact, just seeing the two of them anywhere together, not fighting, would stagger their friends into asking questions.

And these were sure to be awkward, complicated questions, which neither of them had asked themselves yet. What will her mother say? What will your dad think? How will people at school think of you now? What if you guys don't make it? What if she stops loving you…? Questions he would much rather nobody bothered them with for at least a few months or even years. Certainly until Casey was past her finals, and he had her to himself for the summer or even until he was sure that she would be with him for the longest time, maybe forever, and that there was no turning back for either of them. These thoughts were so unlike those that Derek was used to experiencing, felt so much like the commitment and soppy foreverness which he used to shun and ridicule in previous relationships, that Derek almost thought someone had secretly stolen into his body and replaced his heart with someone else's. He was a stranger to himself. But oh, when she was with him, that stranger felt so good!

So he frowned, deep in thought, before thumping his head with his palm and starting up the Prince.

It was after three by the time Casey and Derek had managed to replace all the furniture and clear the detritus of the unexpected guests. Nora was playing cards with Marti, Lizzie and Edwin and George was lying down with backache – or so he said. The birdfeeder was still in pride of place in the middle of the lawn, only now it was tilting at a dangerous angle. The family hadn't noticed as yet.

No-one had batted an eyelid when Casey had called goodbye.

'Where are we going?' she demanded, suspicious and wanting to be in control of events as usual.

'You'll see.'

'Can I put the radio on?'

'You're actually asking me, Case? Don't you normally just do it anyway?' He wanted to hold her hand. His fingers felt lonely on the gear stick. But he refrained.

'Hmm, seems like I wanted you to say yes first. I didn't want to risk a fight. Must be something wrong with me today.' She was smiling wisely at him and he wanted to turn towards her glowing face, but a funny nervous feeling was building inside him, so he kept his eyes on the road.

Would she be angry when she realised where they were going?

They came to a turn-off from the highway and were soon going along a slip road that made the car judder and bounce. On each side there looked to be forest, low branches swaying close to the windows, the air thick with an earthy scent. Casey groaned as her bones were shaken. She had been watching Derek with a far away look on her face and humming along to the music. The bumping made her look out of the window.

'Derek! _Where are we?_ _What is this place?_ This is totally _not _what I was expecting – but it looks so familiar.' She frowned, biting her bottom lip.

He brought the car to a standstill and got out, going around and opening her door for her. She climbed out and stood beside him, looking around.

'Don't you remember this, Case? Your sponsored hike?'

Dappled sunlit path, trees, damp earth, a fresh mossy smell. Somewhere off to the left, the sound of burbling water. It looked very different from how it had done on the grey autumnal day she'd returned from her hike. But it was the same place.

His heart was beating really hard. Maybe this was utterly stupid of him. Yesterday he'd slowed everything down, assured her there was plenty of time. They would get to know each other slowly. But now his curiosity about what had happened to her on that hike, his guilt about not having accompanied her, had made him act rashly. He could have taken her to the mall or to a café and just as well asked her about it over coffee. Or he could have gone to the movies with her and held her hand. Everything was still so new between them that it shone like a sunlit afternoon. But he'd suspected she didn't want to talk about this particular thing, at least with him. So. Here they were. Guided by something fearless in her and some stubborn need in him to be part of that.

'My hike?' Her eyes were very wide and calm, but her voice sounded odd, almost piercing, as if she was about to burst into tears or to ascend into sudden peals of laughter and he could see her foot beating an anxious rhythm against the ground. Derek realised that though he'd thought he knew her really well, the beauty beside him was also mysterious and self contained, unlike the naïve girl in his arms last night. This was someone with secret thoughts and memories and feelings that he was as desperate as ever to learn but that, given his record with her, might not treat him very kindly. Somehow all her reassuring affection seemed to be sliding out of his mind, leaving him quite literally gasping for a response, anything to show that she was still the same person who had sworn she could never leave him.

He was about to start babbling, to suggest they should go home, to tell her about his letter from the University, to ask her advice and watch her pleasure, anything to get her to speak to him in her usual, casual, friendly manner. He reminded himself that he was Derek Venturi, girl catcher, the most wanted guy in the school but, disappointingly, this did nothing at all for his self-confidence in this situation. Because he had never been in this situation before. And now someone else seemed to have all the power.

Then, quite suddenly, instead of replying to him, this unexpectedly enigmatic Casey touched his arm and said, 'Let's go for a walk in the woods.' And, though this was not what he had planned, and shivering at her lightest touch, Derek acquiesced.

**What will she tell him on their walk in the woods?**


	12. A Walk in the Woods

**Don't own LWD. **

Previously: _'My hike?' The silence had lasted so long that Derek was about to start babbling, to suggest they should go home, to tell her about his letter from the University, to ask her advice and watch her pleasure, anything to get her to speak to him in her usual, casual, friendly manner. He reminded himself that he was Derek Venturi, girl catcher, the most wanted guy in the school but, disappointingly, this did nothing at all for his self-confidence in this situation. Because he had never been in this situation before. And now someone else seemed to have all the power. _

_Then, quite suddenly, instead of replying to him, this unexpectedly enigmatic Casey touched his arm and said, 'Let's go for a walk in the woods.' _

**A Walk in the Woods**

Derek and Casey had been climbing for a few minutes in silence, listening to the hissing of their own shoes on the fallen leaves, to the gurgling of the river, to each other's soft panting as they ascended another steep incline.

These woods were lush with foliage, with hovering insects and sleepy birds, exploding with newly opened flowers. A casual observer might have been forgiven for thinking this the most romantic setting possible, the prelude to two young people's passion. And indeed, they were totally aware of each other's presence, physically and emotionally, with every slight brush of the hand, or bump of the shoulder, the need to touch grew stronger. Yet neither of them seemed in the mood to dwell on their dreamy surroundings and neither made a move to satisfy the growing craving.

Then Casey swivelled slightly and gave Derek a brief, cautious look. He stared back at her, willing her to talk. There was no mischief or humour in his face, so she smiled tentatively and said in a low voice,

'When I tell you, _if_ I tell you, it stays between us, right? I couldn't bear it if-'

'What d'you think, Case, I'm not a _complete jerk_!' Derek knew he didn't have a right to be outraged, but he was. Two days of affectionate glances from her had spoiled him. He'd begun to feel like one of those deserving men: the ones whom women don't just like but also trust with all their real and imagined bruises and heartaches, their fears and griefs. The fact that he'd never wanted to be someone like that before, had, in fact, despised such people for their tact and sensitivity, was not lost on him. But the possibility that she'd even suspect that he could betray _her_, whatever her secret, made him unaccountably afraid. And when he was afraid, Derek got angry.

Trying to calm himself, Derek blew air through his lips noisily, sending tiny strands of his hair flying and startling a yellow bird which ascended in dizzy spirals from a nearby branch, calling shrilly to its mate.

Casey bit her lower lip. But she held her ground, her blue eyes serious and questioning, telling him to calm down and respond honestly to what she'd asked. She of all people knew what a chameleon this much-loved stepbrother could be. She wanted him to be her ally. Her confidante. She really did. But she hadn't even told Emily about that weekend. She was uncertain how either of them would react. And she knew how fickle people could be when they were frightened and angry.

She must have seen something in his face that convinced her, for instead of turning away, she reached out for his fingers and interlaced them with her own.

'I got here around six on the Saturday morning. Yeah, I know, ridiculously early – it was still dark. But remember how many miles I had to cover for the challenge to be complete. More than thirty. And I'm not so great with maps. And it was cold.' Derek squeezed her fingers in understanding. She nodded. He wanted badly to ask her how she'd coped with the weight of her tent and rucksack, wanted to tease her because he'd rarely known her to carry her own luggage anywhere; but he knew that would end all hope of her talking. She'd withdraw, all prickly and insulted, into her shell. So he held the impulse in.

'You know who dropped me, right? Well, when he'd gone, I just stood there and listened to the sounds around me for a while, trying to get a sense of the place I was going to be walking in. There were so few leaves then, the trees were all bare and sad looking. I thought it smelled like it might rain. Can you imagine what I was feeling?'

'You're going to tell me?'

'Only if you want me to.' She looked shy. Adorably shy.

He stopped and pulled her roughly against him, cupping her face with his hands. 'Tell me.' He could smell her hair. She leaned against him for a second and then pulled back, the shyness gone.

'I walked all day; I didn't even stop for lunch. It felt like I was punishing myself for something. I couldn't stop my mind, thinking, thinking, thinking, every hour and minute, however much I looked around me and wanted to enjoy the woods. Animals looked at me through the branches, I didn't care. I wasn't normal. I didn't feel like me. I was just completely, totally mad at you, Derek. I was so furious, I thought I never wanted to see you again. _Ever._ I wanted to walk into those woods and die, I think. Or I wanted to go back home and find you gone.'

Her words hurt and shocked him, but now, with hindsight, he was beginning to understand. Still, it was an effort to look at her and to ask, gruffly,

'What had I done this time?'

'Don't you know?'

He shook his head, stomach sinking.

'Then I can't tell you, Derek.' She turned and began to walk away.

'What?' he wasn't expecting her to be like this. But he should have. She was Casey, after all, and her contrary but often sharply perceptive logic had driven his best friend nearly to tears.

'Why don't we just go home, now, please? I have no idea why you brought me here.' She didn't sound angry now, but she didn't sound happy or calm either. There was a sob bubbling just behind the words. He had created this situation; he needed to see it through. Six months ago, he would have let her walk away. He would have driven them home in bitter silence.

'Case…just talk to me. I promise I'll try to understand. Maybe you had a right to be angry. Do I usually admit that?' She didn't respond. They walked for a few minutes, the warm sun twisting and spiralling downward through the branches and leaves as if it was trying to imprint itself on their backs to remind them that shadows are only temporary, life is freckled outside the woods.

'Okay, you were mad at me because I wouldn't come with you? You'd wanted me to fill in for Emily?' He guessed.

Casey stopped abruptly, so that Derek ran into her. Not that he minded. Her body from any angle was soft and inviting. She looked up at him, her hair brushing his chin, narrowing her eyes, and he suddenly felt like a little boy again, playing the game of hot and cold, hiding things with Abby in the garden. When he was closer to the object she'd hidden, she'd call out 'Hotter!' and he'd get a sudden zing of joyous anticipation running to the ends of his toes. Even though he was uncovering the reasons why Casey had been angry with him, and they made him feel guilty and not a little ashamed of himself, he still felt intense delight at the thought that she'd wanted _him_, her hurtful, thoughtless step-brother, to be her companion on that stupid hike, even then, all those months ago.

'I'm right.' He said thoughtfully, stifling a smirk of pleasure. 'You were disappointed that I told you not to go. You'd thought I might come with you. Okay, so you were angry with me and disappointed. I had acted just like you expected, just like the selfish person you knew I was. I'd even suggested you didn't complete the challenge, let down all those children.' He tipped her chin up with a finger, checking to see if he was on the right track, wondering if he should risk telling her that he had intended to come along with her after all or whether she would see this as a ruse to get back into her good books. 'I'm such an idiot', he concluded, 'I let you go alone'. She nodded, glum, remembering the rest of that nightmarish day.

It had gotten dark so swiftly that she'd barely had time to root around in her pack for her flashlight and the tent. Putting it up in a clearing amidst the sounds of falling rain and the gathering gloom had been beyond stressful. She'd cut her fingers; the tent flap had resolutely refused to unzip. The ground had been slick with rotting fallen leaves and had resisted her best efforts to bury the diagonal poles. By the time she'd put the structure up so that it didn't fall down again, Casey had been crying with exhaustion.

It was hard to imagine these bright, colourful woods as the same dreary, moist ones that had been her constant companions through that miserable weekend. Wet to her underwear and shivering uncontrollably, Casey had stripped off and slipped into her sleeping bag without bothering to eat. She'd been woken at some point in the darkness by the sounds of male voices, and the thud of boots in the mud outside. The fear, which had paralysed her then, was something Derek could hardly bear to look at even now, as she told him her tale in an almost inaudible undertone.

'Honestly Derek, I thought they were going to do something to me. I mean – what are the chances of someone else choosing the same spot to camp in this whole damn park in the middle of a cold, wet fall weekend? At least that's what I was thinking then; I had no idea this was a popular trail at that time of year, that people come just to see the river and the colours of the falling leaves.'

'Who were they, Case? Did they hurt you?' His voice was thick with worry. Looking at the genuine pain in his eyes, Casey immediately wanted to comfort him.

'No. I haven't any idea who they were. But no, _they_ didn't hurt me, exactly. I kind of hurt myself though, if you know what I mean. Lying there for hours, imagining what they were doing out there, how many of them there were, and what would happen if they knew I was there and decided to come in my tent. I felt so terribly vulnerable – all my clothes wet, alone in the dark in the woods with strange men outside. I had made my own horror movie. And then I could understand why you and mom had told me not to go in such certain terms. I could sense what you'd known all along, that this thing I was doing wasn't some silly, easily finished game. At least if I'd had company, it might have been bearable.' Casey sounded so deflated, so unlike her usually super-keen self. Derek felt like banging his head against a tree trunk to show her how contrite he was.

'So, what did you do?'

'I stayed up, holding my flashlight – off of course, I didn't want to draw attention to myself. It was the heaviest thing I had and I'd have used it as well if anyone had come near my tent. But they didn't. Derek, _don't look at me like that_!'

She'd stopped and twisted her hair into a rope and pinned it swiftly with a clip from her pocket. Then she sat down on a low tree trunk. Now she looked much calmer; the worst of her story told. Derek on the other hand looked nauseous, the wreckage of nerves and guilt making him want to throw up long and painfully. If something unthinkable had happened, he felt it would have been his fault. For he was certain that she'd taken off alone in that dangerous way out of pride and hurt when he did not offer to be her companion. He said more roughly than he intended, 'Finish your story. It's getting late.' And this time, obediently, Casey did.

'There's not much more to tell. I was a wreck by the morning, I could hardly figure out which way I'd come and which way I was supposed to go to get picked up. I was up so early that none of the other campers were awake. They had this big camouflage tent, like some ex-army thing, and there were empty bottles of beer and cigarette stubs all around the flap. I got out of there as quick as I could. You know, one of the conditions of the sponsorship was that I should photograph various landmarks along the way – so I had to do that, but truthfully I can't tell you how I managed, I was in such a state. You were right, I was wrong; I shouldn't have gone on my own and you knew it. I wasn't angry with you any longer by Sunday afternoon. I was angry with myself. Hey!'

Derek had turned away from her and was leaning against a tree, an arm across his eyes. Softly standing, she pulled him towards her; but he wouldn't turn. '_What?_ Derek, why're you so upset?'

'Don't you know, Casey?' Echoing her words, he sounded bitter. At least she thought he did; and therefore, to change his mood, she decided to tell him something she'd sworn to keep to herself.

Smiling slightly and taking his free hand between both of hers Casey whispered, 'Yeah, I guess I do. Now _you're_ mad at _me_ because I put myself in danger. And you don't know the half of it.' That made him look up.

'Emily was better on the Friday night; almost well, she said. But I just told her to rest; I insisted I'd found someone else. I'd been _so_ certain you'd come with me, Derek, that I encouraged Emily to stay home. _I wanted to go with you_, not with anyone else. Once the idea had entered my head, that day when she got her cold, I couldn't let go of it. The thought of having you to myself for two days... phew. I've been crazy about you for so long now I've forgotten what it feels like not to act like a total fool for your benefit.'

Hearing this, Derek tried to pull his hand away but she held it tightly, standing on tiptoes and trying to look into his eyes.

'It's okay, you know, nothing happened.' She paused, then whispered, 'And we understand each other better now, you and I, don't we?' She had stepped close and was nuzzling his cheek with hers; it was something he'd imagined his stepsister doing – and had decided would never happen with him – for so long now that it almost didn't seem real; more like part of some insane Derek fantasy-world.

Finally, overpowered by her dimples, he accepted all the warmth she was offering. Being uptight just wasn't his thing. Sulking was so tiring; and besides, he was going to be alone all night to ponder his faults and past mistakes.

They stood there in the downpour of sunshine, kissing softly, holding onto each other, and felt as if they'd melted into a single person, Derek-Casey-Derek-Casey, his hands, her wrists, her fingers, his hair, their skin. Human butter.

Then it was ten past five, and Nora was calling on Casey's phone to ask whether she should keep dinner warm for them and, fumbling, Casey had dropped the phone only to find that Derek had stepped on it; and they giggled wildly throughout the winding, glorious walk back to the car.

**I do love reviews and lovely reviewers. You guys have a tough task - so much to read, so little time, but go on, it's worth it for the pleasure it gives! And we're getting to the University letter chapter. Slowly but surely. All will be revealed.**


	13. Reality Check

**No ownership of LWD implied. I'm so thrilled with your reviews. :-)**

**Previously: **_They stood there in the downpour of sunshine, kissing softly, holding onto each other, and felt as if they'd melted into a single person, Derek-Casey-Derek-Casey, his hands, her wrists, her fingers, his hair, their skin. Human butter. _

_Then it was ten past five, and Nora was calling on Casey's phone to ask whether she should keep dinner warm for them and, fumbling, Casey had dropped the phone only to find that Derek had stepped on it; and they giggled wildly throughout the winding, glorious walk back to the car__._

**Chapter Twelve – Reality Check**

Midnight, Canadian time. Monday unfurling sweetly, stealthily into Tuesday. Silent full-stop to the long weekend.

In her room, Casey lay with her back pressed against her cushions. Her pale pink pyjamas were patterned with kittens attempting endlessly to unravel messy balls of wool. As she breathed, her collarbones rose and fell almost imperceptibly. Her pretty profile against the smooth cotton of her sheet was tranquil, childlike even, a contrast to her sensuous body.

One of her hands pillowed her left cheek. Her eyelashes did not flicker.

She was deeply asleep.

Derek sat in her chair, contemplating her physical beauty in a way that he never dared to do when she was awake. Relishing the sound of her breathing and with it the soft rise and fall of her breasts.

Even though he sat as if relaxed, bare legs outstretched, arms clasped behind his head in customary manner, the tension he was feeling was evident in his knitted brows, the uncertain tilt of his head.

Until ten minutes ago he had been in his own room, in bed, tossing and turning, fighting what was coming to seem like an addiction to Casey's presence.

The evening seemed to have passed all too swiftly, with both of them cocooned in the homely chaos of their respective siblings, parents and friends, for both Sam and Emily had chosen to drop around, unannounced, and had stayed for a considerable portion of the evening eating ice cream and watching television. Nora had been gesticulating wildly in an attempt to win a game of Charades. Marti was hiccupping with laughter in George's lap and Edwin was back on form, winning the game without even trying because he was teamed with Lizzie who could always read him like a book.

He'd heard Emily describing her weekend. Something about wine and cheese tasting with her parents and Dimi getting sick in the car. Casey said _Ew_ under her breath to both activities but, kind girl that she was, he had seen her nodding in sympathy. The expression of warm attentiveness in her eyes reminded him momentarily of the day when she's realised he had feelings for Kendra and had tried her very best to bring them together, despite his pretense of nonchalance and her own exclusion once their relationship had kicked off. What an ungrateful friend he'd been not to realise why she had cried so much the next time he mocked her for being single and unable to get a date; what a fool not to understand why he had writhed even more when she was dating Max than when she was always around the house preventing Kendra and him from making out.

Their conversation turned to revision and then to guys, and he tried not to listen when Emily pointedly giggled about some quarterback's muscles and then exclaimed, 'Casey! It was like he'd had a butt transplant - shame about his brain though!' Phew! Did all women apply such biting sarcasm to the men they met? And why did he even care?!

After describing a lazy, relaxing day, Sam had asked him in a matter of fact way where _he'd_ got to that afternoon and why he hadn't called as he'd promised. He'd described putting the house to rights after the weekend of weird guests, but left out his dizzying stroll in the woods with his newly found woman. For a few seconds, discomfort at his omission and guilt because this was Sam, his oldest, closest friend, he was hiding things from, made Derek squirm. But then, looking around, he saw _her_, and guilt was a passing twinge.

She had caught the sun. Her face was glowing. Every inch of Casey, every sentence she uttered, whatever its content, whatever her tone, evoked a feeling of pleasure and tenderness in him that utterly disconnected him from the rest of the events occurring around him. When she brushed against him accidentally or deliberately, his heart hammered tipsily in response. Seeking each other's gaze, occasionally, over the laughing heads or across the swaying shoulders of their dear ones, Derek knew that he and Casey were experiencing both a kind of delight that neither had thought possible, and also the calm before the storm.

Now, thinking back over their nonchalant conversations with their best friends, over Emily's squeals of laughter and Sam's comforting groans at Casey's attempts to act out the word 'Joke', Derek wondered when and how they were ever going to explain themselves.

Step-siblings. That absurd but ultimately fortuitous twist of fate would be the first thing that raised eyebrows, temperatures and voices. Then there was the fact that they'd so dramatically and publicly infuriated each other and their friends on so many occasions, their overt puerile hostility the ruin of many a promising evening.

And finally, there were their parents, whose trust, and strict sense of propriety would not be overruled in the face of their children's obvious delight in each other's company.

Everyone would feel distressed, dismayed, embarrassed, betrayed. Even if they won their friends' approval, there was no guarantee of a wider acceptance. Just thinking about it made him nauseous, all his Derek-like self-confidence abandoned to an urgent sense of the pain it could inflict on his beloved Casey. The thought of her guilt and humiliation weighed on him.

Part of him just wanted to keep his attraction towards Casey a complete secret, their mutual affection something private, delicate and pristine, that none of their casual or closer companions might guess at.

Glancing around Casey's feminine but distinctive room, where they had each pretended to so many negative feelings and where he had told her confidently, untruthfully, of his disdain for her possessions, her person and her plans, Derek tried to remember why he had behaved the way he had. The thought that he might have found her sooner, had he only understood himself better, was beginning to hurt him more than he'd imagined. Momentarily, something tangible caught his attention.

On her computer desk lay an unsealed envelope, addressed to the University of Toronto; the single item out of place in a sea of neatly arranged discs and papers. Motivated as much by pride at her achievement as by curiosity, Derek withdrew the paper from within and started to read, only to realise it contained her polite letter declining the offered place.

What? _What?_ He started to hyperventilate. She was turning down her place, and he had one? What could that mean? She didn't want to go to Toronto with him? That she'd had a better offer and was going somewhere else? Tears sprang to his eyes. He knew she'd been talking to Emily about Montreal earlier in the evening. Perhaps their confidences had all been too late. After all, he might still have to do without her. He could hardly draw breath.

But wait. She didn't even know that he'd tried for and been offered a place. She was still assuming _he_ was staying in London. She was turning down hers. Her coveted, toiled over and aspired after place at a brilliant university. He gasped, swallowing his confusion, understanding the implications of that sacrifice.

He wanted to throw himself down on the bed beside his girl, to smooth his hands over her hair, kiss her eyelids, inch his mouth across her throat, assure her of his gratitude in every possible way. He could feel the tug of desire too, urging him to pull her sleeping form against him and mould her softness to his body. But Derek did none of these things. He simply took her letter and crept from the room, a smile of affectionate mischief on his face.

**More reviews, more writing… well, partly kidding. If I had more time, there'd be more writing. Sorry this was short. There'll be another up soon. I'm enjoying you guys' fictions too. Thank you.**


	14. Ravenous

**I don't own LWD of course. Thanks so so much to those of you who read and review so faithfully; you're the best!**

**Chapter Thirteen - Ravenous**

Gulping down his cereal in the morning, Derek didn't wonder, as Nora did for the fifth time, what was taking Casey so long. He knew she'd be freaking out, probably debating with herself about the hours to come and how to handle their first day back at school since their shy admissions of affection towards each other. Although she was no longer as alone and unpopular as she had been four years ago, and her life in the last few months had at least seemed normal and uneventful, this normality was just a thin veneer covering the complicated teenage alliances and cliques in their school. If any of a dozen girls in their year guessed how she felt about him – or more importantly, how he felt about her – then her last four weeks and the exams would be spent fending off painful accusations, spiteful gossip, possibly even physical attacks.

It was the last thing she needed. But what could he do to protect her? His policy regarding public displays of affection might shield their secret for a while, and he was glad of that, but it would not last forever.

Lizzie and Edwin's quiet bickering didn't cease even when Casey came down the stairs, looking stunning in an off-the-shoulder maroon blouse, faded jeans and black slippers; Derek couldn't take his eyes off her. He felt sweat break out across his back and under his arms. The effort it took not to leap from his chair and devour her along with his breakfast would have had a lesser mortal than Derek Venturi in hospital. Instead, congratulating himself on his iceman coolness and maintaining what he thought was a smug grin, he asked, 'Mislaid your watch this morning, Space Case?'

Phew. Was this what it was going to be like every time he saw her in the halls or took a class with her or they ate breakfast in front of the family?

Casey cast him a mysterious look and he saw a sealed envelop in her hand. The very one he'd been looking at the night before. His eyes flicked off her face and towards Nora with a brief anxiety as Casey said mock-frostily, 'My _watch_ is _fine_, but I was just trying on every outfit in the wardrobe, as you say I do every day, you know, because I'm such a Space and so very concerned about my image! Hey, mom? Would you be really mad if I get a lift in with Derek this morning and you post my letter when you take Marti to school? I've just got such a lot to catch up on after the extra long weekend…' Casey trailed off, just short of a whine. What game was she playing? Derek kept his suspicious thoughts to himself.

Still glowing from her unusually successful weekend and from Derek and Casey's support, Nora squealed, 'Not at all, go ahead honey.' And then yelled, 'Marti. Marti? Front door in two minutes…'

Just another Monday morning. Except that it wasn't. It was Tuesday. And Casey had no idea that the letter inside the envelop she held was not the same one she had placed in the open cover the night before. There, it was done. She'd handed it to Nora, stamp and all. Now there would be no turning back for either of them, decided Derek, thinking of his own acceptance letter folded up in the pocket of his coat.

Then they were out of the door and struggling to breathe at the proximity to each other required by their journey in the car. Not having had a chance to greet each other in private that morning, they were newly shy, freshly amazed by each other's beauty. The sun glinting through the windshield turned Derek's fringe to a golden halo. Casting him a coy look, she tested the lengths to which their new friendship would allow her to go and turned the radio to a different station, one that played mostly folk and classical music. Derek didn't speak; had she but known, he was afraid he would crash and injure both of them, despite the slow-moving traffic, so alluring were Casey's bare shoulders and shapely neck just beside him.

'You're my girl.' He said finally.

'What?!' Casey jerked forward and almost switched off the radio.

'Well? You are, aren't you, McDonald? So you can pick any station you want. Once a year.' How he wished his voice wasn't shaking as he spoke. Come on! Play it cool. Derek realised that this was actually the first time in his not in-extensive dating life that he had ever said this to someone, and wanted almost painfully for that someone to say 'Yes I am.'

'I _am?_' Casey tried cautiously, more a question than a statement, no presumptuous ownership in her voice. She had waited so long. What if this was all a dream? What if he was playing with her, for some unknown reason, allowing her to give away all her secrets one by one, to peel back the layers of her secret admiration for him, her more than sisterly love, the mix of concern and desire he evoked, like the disposable skins of an onion, only to leave her cringing, bare and shredded, as he had so many other young women. Some hidden and prideful part of her, the part which remembered Nora's sorrows as a neglected wife and wished to shield herself from similar pain, was aware that so far she had told Derek how she felt far more than he had told her.

'Well, who else or what else…?' A car honked at them, and Derek spun the wheel in frustration, narrowly missing a cyclist. 'Eyes on the road', Casey said automatically.

'I said girlfriend, not wife!' He grumbled.

'_Ew!_ Who said I'd ever be your _wife_? She gets to pick up your socks. No way.'

'Mind your logic. Anyway, not everyone sprays cologne water on their socks…'

'I do not! And not everyone wears their socks till the jam inside is thicker than the fabric…'

'_Ew_ Casey! Your imagination…' But he was laughing now, thinking absurdly, staggeringly, breathlessly, _You will be my wife someday, Casey McDonald_, _wait and see_.

The gentle banter relaxed them both. They were almost at the school gates, in a lighter flow of traffic. Without warning, Derek swung in a wide arc; the Prince squealed but obeyed. They were in a cul-de-sac near someone's driveway, just a couple of minutes from their destination. Derek's breathing was erratic. He turned in his seat, reached out both his arms and pulled Casey towards him; she leaned in and met his hungry mouth, catching his caress and returning it with equal fervour. They tasted toothpaste and aftershave and lipgloss and the sweet hot flavour of shared emotion.

Derek trailed his fingers over the shoulders he had so recently admired. Smooth and cool skin, dusted with tiny, almost invisible, golden freckles. He bent quickly and kissed her collarbone, thinking weirdly of how he'd watched her sleep the night before. Casey pressed her hot cheek against his, and giggled, thinking, _I guess this is like going to the bank. I've got to stock up on you for the whole day. I'm sure you won't want me hanging off your arm at school and lowering your rep. _He placed a single finger beneath her chin.

'I know what you're thinking.' His finger traced a path upto and across her lips.

'You do?'

'Yup. But you'll have to wait until after school to find out.'

She was intrigued. 'I have to wait to find out what you think I'm thinking? You reckon that'll make me quit library duty and come ride home with you, Venturi?'

'You _are_ riding home with me.'

Then they were driving off; the eighty-second detour might never have happened.

Casey knew she was at school, because Emily was at her elbow, recounting some hilarious incident from her weekend that she'd forgotten to tell Casey the night before. She knew she was at school because of the smell of the wax on the corridor floors, the smell of chips in the dining hall, the smell of sweat in the gym. She knew she was in school, because she listened to the dictation of revision notes in four classes, and skipped her fifth to sit in the library staring at the illustrations in her Chemistry book without taking in a word.

Rivers of thought flowed this way and that across the landscape that used to be her mind. And along each one, Derek was steering his ship.

'Casey?' Emily was looking concerned.

'I'm okay.'

'So you're not okay. What's up? Who is it? Spit it out, girl, you're like a love sick puppy!'

'How? What makes you..?' Casey was stammering.

'Huh!' Emily snorted. 'Lucky guess or something. But seriously, what a time you've picked, Casey. Not like you to fall out of love with your English class only four weeks before finals! But I swear, you only raised your hand THREE times.' Emily pretended to hyperventilate. 'And then, you didn't even get angry when Derek gave the right answer and you got that question about ice flows wrong in Geography! You didn't even seem to notice. What _is_ up with you? Oh My! Did you get your college letter?'

Casey was caught off guard, flailing between her amusement at Emily's perspicacity, embarrassment at her own transparency and anxiety about having to answer to her friends' lucky guesses.

But just as she felt that she had no option but to tell Emily the truth – because Casey had never yet in her life told an outright lie to someone she loved and because answering either of the questions truthfully would lead to revelations she was not sure Emily would approve of – she was saved by a squeal from an over-excited Kendra who hefted a pile of books past them both, talking at the top of her voice about their graduation ball to a girl who's name Casey had never quite managed to remember. And right behind them came Derek and Sam, chatting, relaxed, seemingly unaware of their audience, but oozing self-assurance and charm. Derek had removed his jacket because of the heat, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. The golden hairs on his arms caught the light. He wore the leather wristband she'd given him two years ago around his left wrist.

They stopped, leaning against Sam's locker, giving the girls a profile view. Sam said, 'Hey Casey. Hey Emily. What's Up?' And Emily was distracted into a different conversation. Then, just fleetingly, Derek glanced in Casey's direction and, meeting her eyes, gave her the tiniest, warmest smile. _My girl_, it said, that look. No one else would even have recognised it. But she did.

This no-touching-in-public thing Derek had going – she suddenly understood it. It was _way more_ exciting than any touching she'd ever done with any other person in her not very extensive experience. Way more interesting and mature, and desire for him was driving her slowly insane.

Casey felt the trembling in her knees first, but then it was all over, shaking her so hard she couldn't believe that Emily hadn't noticed. Her mouth was dry, her tongue would hardly move, but she felt she could just eat him up and that if she didn't get him to herself soon she would simply faint from hunger, for he had made her ravenous. Her thoughts raced drunkenly over the letter she'd written and now posted, the choices she was making, the absolute mess her life could become. Her heart. Her guts. Every single small minute atom of her being knew that this boy was the one. Derek Venturi. Stepbrother extraordinaire.

** I know loads of you are reading this because of all my messages, so send me a single word review if you like it! I'm happy with single words or maybe two words, as long as you review. **


	15. Waves at Sea

**I don't own the show. Of course.**

**Thanks for the nice reviews, always so encouraging; you guys cheer me up a lot. **

**Previously:** _Casey's thoughts raced drunkenly over the letter she'd written and now posted, the choices she was making, the absolute mess her life could become. Her heart. Her guts. Every single small minute atom of her being knew that this boy was the one. Derek Venturi. Stepbrother extraordinaire._

**Chapter Fourteen – Waves at Sea**

Saying she had some serious studying to do, Casey went to bed early that night. At the top of the stairs, before going into the bathroom, she gave her mother and Lizzie an extra long hug.

Uncharacteristically tender, Nora stroked their cheeks, murmuring how proud she was of her two beautiful girls who had seen her through the heartache of divorce to a place that seemed both peaceful and, dare she believe it, truly happy. But her eyes! Casey looked in her mother's eyes and saw the tears shining there. She wanted to kiss them away, to reassure her. Your baby girl is not going to leave. Instead she looked away, her own eyes filling unexpectedly as a stab of anxiety about her future shot through her; the knowledge that she would one day leave Nora sank deep.

Standing in the bathroom brushing her teeth, and then later, sitting distractedly at her desk trying to plan a revision essay, Casey felt as if a gigantic magnet was pulling her back down the stairs, towards a certain chair and a certain brown-eyed boy. She imagined briefly what it would be like if they were acknowledged as a couple by their family, the way in which time would flower around them, despite the looming exams. She could run back down the stairs, seat herself beside him; he would put his arm around her, brush her cheek with his wrist. She could almost feel his hair against her hands. Tendrils of excitement crept up and down her spine; and then the inevitable happened. Her mind lost its balance on that tightrope in the clouds, and stumbled into panic about the pain her mother would feel at the idea of her and Derek together; she sank back to reality again and turned her attention to her school work.

Derek watched television with George for an hour in companionable silence before bidding his father goodnight and taking the stairs two at a time.

George had rarely felt this close to his eldest son. It pleased and perturbed him at the same time. He wondered if he should ask about Derek's lack of quips and the general calm in the household, but then, reluctant to look a gift horse in the mouth, he put it down to the fact that Derek had pleased Nora with his kindness and maturity at the weekend and that approaching final exams were making Derek take stock. Of all things, he did not suspect that the relaxed atmosphere masked his son's love for another McDonald woman.

At a few minutes to ten, Casey tapped on Derek's door, waiting diffidently for the husky 'Enter' before stepping into his room.

As if shyness was contagious, Derek tugged a T-shirt over his head. He'd been sitting shirtless, with the window wide open, typing something at his computer. His room smelt of mints and shaving foam, a comforting, attractive scent. Minimising the screen, he swung around in his chair to look at her. Wanting to reach out and touch him, but needing to be invited, Casey stood awkwardly, rubbing one bare foot against the back of her bare leg, smiling but not knowing what to say. They were both remembering.

That afternoon. The ride home in the car – for that's all it was – and an atmosphere taut with things unsaid, questions, fears, curiosity. Each of them waiting for the other one to speak and then starting to speak at the same time. 'Jinxed', that was what they'd have shrieked when they were little. But Derek had let Casey go first, with her ice-breaker question, 'Can you remember the first time you thought of me like this?' to which he had teased, 'Like what – as a human being? I guess that would be like NEVER!' and she had hit his arm, and then he had pulled the car over and they had talked for almost an hour.

'Seriously. I've been trying to remember. Because I'm sure I couldn't have lived all this time with you dating other girls if I felt like this!' She spoke dramatically but was looking embarrassed.

'Who says you liked it when I dated other girls? You think I didn't know you were jealous even though you encouraged me to go out? All those cracks about their lack of brain and etiquette! Casey, Casey, Casey. You are so transparent.'

'I wasn't jealous. Honestly, Derek. At least to begin with I wasn't.' Casey's face was so beautiful when she looked this serious. He could hardly continue the conversation. But her tone demanded that he listen. 'I was just happy you liked _some_ women and girls since you seemed to dislike me so much.' She dropped her voice, the subject still too painful to dwell on out loud and Derek was contrite for teasing her.

'How can I persuade you that I didn't dislike you? Casey, shaking your head like that is just plain annoying. Do I question you when you make assertions about how you feel? Okay, okay I do sometimes, but I'm just kidding. I trust you. Can't you trust me? I _always_ liked you, my Space Case. Not as much as I do now, maybe' – he reached out and held her hand, folding her fingers inside his briefly before letting go – 'but certainly enough to make you kissing Sam one of the most difficult moments of my life.' Derek looked out of his window as he articulated a thought that he had barely whispered even to himself.

'Really?' Casey looked uncomfortable. 'And I behaved so awfully towards you…' She trailed off, recollecting that she too had spoken innumerable harsh words to Derek over the years: some because she'd felt genuinely angry and wretched when he seemed so self-sufficient and contemptuous of her; some to disguise her perturbing affection towards him. But surely there were occasions when even she had crossed the line. Like the time when she'd told him she would be in Toronto at university while he was sitting at home on the couch doing a correspondence course in something useless. She kind of hoped he would never remember that. But she knew she wasn't likely to forget it any time soon and that those words might come back to haunt her. She groaned and put her forehead in her hands.

'It's okay. We don't have to list all the cruel things we've said to each other.' His voice got gentle, as if he had read her mind.

'Hmm.' Casey had been too choked to speak.

'Can we talk about something else?' Derek had sensed her tension. The past was the past, why dig it up? But Casey wasn't finished. Berating herself for real or imagined failings was something she was quite used to doing in private, and now she had Derek, she could do it out loud and in company.

Derek, however, had different ideas. Although they were parked in a fairly public place on a small residential road not too far from their home, and it was the middle of the afternoon, he'd risked discovery and leaned across to kiss her cheek, gentle lips lingering just long enough for Casey to feel the swift rise and fall of his breath against her skin. In a second she was going to lose all caution, to move and force him to kiss her mouth. Instead she whispered, 'Derek, I'm so sorry. I hate myself when I think of all the things I said to you…'

'Come on, I want to show you something.' This was it, Derek decided. He was going to show her his letter, tell her what he had done. Then she would understand how much she meant to him, how little every cross word they'd spoken weighed on him. The future would not be a future for him without her in it. So they had driven home, and on the way Casey had cheered up, telling him happily, 'I think I do remember the day I started to think I might like your company more than I should.'

'Started to think you_ might like my company_? Hmm, how very Caseyish! Well? Are you going to tell me?' He concentrated on driving, refusing to let her see how excited he was at the thought that she'd liked him so long, through months of fights, days of insults and tears. Strangely, Casey's respect, even in retrospect, made Derek indescribably proud.

'You remember the time we were locked in the bathroom and had that fight when we were supposed to be minding Liz and Ed?'

'Do you think I'll ever forget that crazy night?' Derek slowed the car to let Emily's mother out of the driveway. Casey raised a hand and mouthed, 'Hi, Mrs. Davis', earning herself a warm smile.

Getting out of the car, they'd both frowned, recollecting with scary precision the things that each of them had been wearing that day three years ago, how adorable the other had looked smeared with shaving foam or shampoo and how, after the first minutes of claustrophobia and panic, neither of them had wanted to be 'rescued' from that enforced proximity. Blue eyes meeting brown shyly, glances skidding away into a conversation about parents and expectations that Derek would later deny had meant anything but which had, oddly, changed Casey's opinion of him entirely.

Now that she had reminded him, Derek was aware that when Casey had reached out and smeared the streaks of soap on his face that night, his whole body had tensed in an effort not to pull his fifteen year old step-sister into his arms then and there with their younger siblings in the corridor and a raging mob destroying their family home downstairs. But he wasn't going to tell her about that memory. At least, not yet.

And by the time the front door closed behind them this afternoon, Marti was already in his arms, shouting about how late they were, demanding a chocolate, and they both forgot that Derek had driven her home to show her something. At least Casey did. And Derek only remembered when she came timidly into his room and stood in that funny, adorable uncertain stance, tempting him yet again to pull her down onto his lap.

It was a warm evening. Stars laid their silvery mantle across the sky for any who chose to look, and Casey was looking now. Forgetting her caution, she walked to Derek's window and leaned out, sniffing the climbing Jasmine at the back of their house. Their house. Where they lived together side by side for four years and might now live for many years, unless mom and George got fed up of them. She knew she had to tell him about her response to the University, but before she did that she wanted some reassurance. Derek was still in the computer chair, although now he had turned it around so he could watch her. Sitting down on the bed and stretching her bare feet out so that he could hold them, Casey thought how best to ask him for something that would give her the confidence she needed.

'Derek?'

'Hmm?'

'You know how I told you about my hike?'

Derek nodded, not daring to speak, wondering where she was going with this.

'And I told you about being afraid. Have you ever felt like that? I mean really like you were about to break into tiny pieces? And don't give me your usual line about Venturis' being indestructible and you being the king of courage which I don't for a minute believe.'

'You know me so well…' Derek pretended to smirk, smoothing his thumbs lightly over her ankles and the sides of her shapely feet. He was really thinking about her question, and didn't notice her responsive shiver.

'D'you remember year before last when my Grandpa was in hospital?' Casey nodded. Of course she remembered. Derek's voice was low, reluctant. 'Abby called me and asked if I'd go up and help Grandma move some stuff around so that the house would be easier for them to live in when Grandpa got better.' Derek paused, his hands stilling on her feet. Casey started to say, 'It's okay, you don't have to tell me.' She'd had no idea that he would choose to talk about this. But he continued before she spoke, 'So I went with George. Even though Abby should have been there. Even though I felt awful for Grandma, all alone and going back and forth from the hospital with her bad hip…' Casey hadn't known much about Derek's maternal grandparents until that month. In face, she hadn't realized how close they'd been to Derek and Edwin when the boys were little or how George loved and respected them as much as his own parents. She guessed there were so many things about the Venturis that she hadn't known or understood. And in those days she'd been so busy protecting herself from what she thought of as creeping barbarianism – crisps under the couch cushions, cold pizza for breakfast, belching at dinner – that she'd neglected to look for the deeper currents of feeling beneath their exterior foibles.

'And we moved their bed downstairs, in case Grandpa couldn't climb the stairs. And dad got a plumber to fit a shower. We took Grandpa some burgers, because we knew he loved those, and then Dad drove back to the kids and I stayed a night with Grandma. It was strange sleeping in my old room – what used to be Abby's room when she was a little girl – and looking at the posters from back when on the walls. Did you know that my mom used to be a real protestor when she was in college? She marched against the bomb and against lots of other things, I don't think she ever told me about it, but I saw the posters on her walls, and Grandma told me so proudly about her that it almost made me proud too. Anyway, that night I sat with Grandma till it was real late, talking about all of you, and Nora and how happy we were. Shh, I know, you thought I hated you and everything McDonald. Well, sorry to disappoint you, Case, even I could see that Nora was the best thing ever to happen to Dad. And before you ask, I can tell Grandma anything. She knows Abby's not perfect on the home front. Well, she would have been there instead of me with her parents, if she was like that, wouldn't she? But anyway I won't get into that – I know you don't like it when I badmouth mom. And Grandma said to me that if I ever find love like that, like she had with Granddpa or George had with Nora I should take it with both hands and hang on for dear life and never ever let it go… That was what she said to me as she was kissing me goodnight. She and Grandpa had been together for Sixty years, since they met at teaching college.' Derek had started to shake slightly, though his voice was still conversational. Casey got up and took his hands in hers, leaning forward so that their knees touched. She knew the rest of the story or at least the basic facts.

Derek had woken at four in the morning to hear his grandmother speaking quietly on the telephone to someone. He'd crept down to the kitchen to get a drink. And then something had made him go into the living room. And there was his Grandmother, all dressed to go out. Except that she'd had her coat on inside out. And he'd known immediately that it was the end.

'"Oh Sweetie" was all she said to me. I thought I was going to faint. Casey. She was so calm. I saw she'd written me a note but my eyes were hurting so much with tears that I couldn't read it. Her neighbour, a woman called Mary French, came round to drive her to the hospital. I hadn't yet passed my test or she'd have asked me, I guess. I went with her, of course, but there was nothing I could do there. Each of us held one of Grandpa's hands; but he never woke up. In fact, he looked quite peaceful. By the time the sky was light, he'd gone. I kept thinking stupid things, like we shouldn't have given him the burger. But the nurse said it was nothing to do with that. In fact he never ate it. It was just the way the heart works. And his didn't. Casey, I swear to you, if I could have taken his place so Grandma wouldn't have had that look on her face…'

And there it was. The reason she'd always been drawn to him. That complete and sudden compassion, the glint of sharpest love.

It had been days before Derek had come home. Even then, none of them had really known what he'd been through before Abby returned and they'd arranged the funeral. And because, with the inherent decency of his father, he'd wanted to spare the rest of the kids the grief of knowing how badly he felt it, he'd never talked about anything much, just telling Edwin that Grandma needed them more than she had done before and going back and forth to the nursing home that now housed her as much as his hockey practice would let him.

Casey didn't bother to say 'It's okay'. She just pulled Derek from the chair, dragged him onto the bed next to her and pulled the covers over them both. In the faint glow from the computer screen, she could see his eyes close. She held her arms around him, kissed his cheek, sorry she'd wanted him to talk, angry with herself for making him sad. Unwrapping your heart in front of someone else does not make a comfortable pass-time and she should not have tempted him to do it. Five minutes later, he was asleep.

Casey disengaged herself gently, putting a pillow in her place so he wouldn't miss her warmth. Then she closed his window and drew the curtains. Part of her wanted to sleep next to him, to cuddle him with all the tenderness she did not allow herself to show during the day, to breathe his scent all night long; but another part wanted to go back to her own familiar room and make sense of the waterfall through which they were descending. She sat down at his desk and was about to switch off his monitor so that the light didn't trouble him when she noticed that his wastebasket was overflowing. It was a common occurrence and never failed to irritate her. But this time she just smiled and picked it up, taking it with her to empty before going to bed. Treading carefully she made her way downstairs to the kitchen and switched on the light. The clock showed half past eleven. Everything was pristine. Nora has even set the dishes for breakfast and they stood there on the island, empty and rather forlorn as if asking to be filled.

She began to tip Derek's bin into the main recycling box when a piece of paper with her name on it caught her eye. She retrieved the crumpled sheet and then stared fixedly at the thing in her hands as if she had just rescued a snake.

For this messy crumpled paper she held tonight was the missive to Toronto University that she'd agonized over, typed and signed only twenty-four hours ago, the one apologetically rejecting her place. And if this one was here, _in this bin_, which she'd found in Derek's room, with her signature on it as clear as sunlight for anyone to see, what on earth was in the envelope that Nora had posted for her this morning? What had Derek done? A complicated noose of uncertainty and chagrin and worry looped itself around Casey's stomach, reaching its frayed edges menacingly even into her sunniest dreams.

**I hope this wasn't too long. I've had a sad week, and maybe this crept into the story. Forgive me if it was depressing. And of course, review, review.**


	16. Fever Season

**I don't own LWD.**

**I'm thrilled by your reviews. Writing is a delight, but having serious readers who truly get your work is even better. So, thank you. And please do keep reviewing, short or long.**

_**Previously:** The messy crumpled paper Casey held was the missive to Toronto University that she'd agonized over, typed and signed only twenty-four hours ago, the one apologetically rejecting her place. And if this one was here, in this bin, which she'd found in Derek's room, with her signature on it as clear as sunlight for anyone to see, what on earth was in the envelope that Nora had posted for her this morning? What had Derek done? A complicated noose of uncertainty and chagrin and worry looped itself around Casey's stomach, reaching its frayed edges menacingly even into her sunniest dreams._

**Chapter Fifteen - Fever Season**

When Derek woke that morning, he felt as if summer had just marched into his room and taken it hostage. His pillowcase was hot. The air in the room was twice-breathed and baking. His eyes were stuck together, as if he'd cried in his sleep. Two days ago it was gentlest Spring. Nothing had prepared London for this. Global warming? Perhaps. Being Derek, he didn't agonise. Just rolled out of bed and half-crawled to the shower.

There was no-one in the hallway; no-one on the stairs. Not a soul in the kitchen. Spooky.

A bowl of cereal followed by a quick check in the mirror and he was calling up the stairs for Casey.

His heart was drumming, partly at the thought of seeing her all fresh and radiant; partly at the idea of telling her about Toronto, his letter; hers; his mischievous deception; their possible and dreamed of future.

But all he heard was the echo of his own voice. Then he looked at the clock. _Shit!_ It was almost ten. Everyone had left. He was alone in the house, with the gathering heat, and the beginnings of a bad headache.

Six hours later, Derek's day was evaporating faster than an ice-cube in a feverish palm. This was the last hockey practice before the last big game of the season, and his timing was off. For the fourth time he'd looked away at the wrong moment and gone flying into the boards. Coach was furious. The other players were perplexed. His heart was thudding and skittering with nerves, and none of it was to do with the game.

All day long he'd been trying to talk to Casey. His last memory of contact with her was a slender hand pressed against cheek before he fell asleep the night before. He'd just told her about grandpa and she'd been – well, just what he would have wanted her to be – completely, curiously, in tune with him. Tender. Unsentimental.

But today, it was as if all connection between them had inexplicably snapped. He could swear that she'd seen him from the doorway of her second class before it closed – but she hadn't turned. Paranoia had set in. He began to wonder if she'd been acting on her own or someone else's instigation the past few days, teasing him, finding out his secrets and tormenting him with her closeness and her body. Forgetting that he'd been the one to caution her against too early a physical relationship, he even wondered whether she had deliberately withheld herself in the knowledge that she would only be with him until he'd completely broken down before her. For what reason, he didn't speculate. Maybe it was revenge for something he'd done to her in his previous life. But these were crazy thoughts. And he quelled them.

Later he'd been just in time to see her back disappearing into the girls' washrooms at lunchtime alongside Emily. She hadn't reappeared, although he'd waited half of half an hour. Emily had emerged a few minutes later, and ignored him. When he'd caught her arm and asked without preamble, 'What's up with Spacey today? She seems more than usually uptight?' All he'd got was a disapproving shrug. Then Emily had squeaked, 'Excuse me', in a most un-Emily-like fashion and stalked off.

Stung by this treatment he'd tugged his hair in frustration and tried to find Sam to discuss the situation, only to remember that Sam knew nothing about his blissful connection with Casey and might well be freaked out or disapproving. That he could not handle just at this minute. So he let it ride. Stumbled through Maths and Geography. Almost cut practice but thought better of it given his scholarship. Come to that, he needed to let Coach know about his scholarship letter.

But before that, he wanted to talk to Casey. He was, in fact, thirsty for her presence, her touch. He had started to feel in the last few days that in finding her and acknowledging the current between them he had rediscovered part of himself.

Although Derek usually had little time for most girls' hormonal freak-outs, and even weeks ago might have ignored the instinct telling him that Casey was truly unhappy about something and just hoped she'd get over it, the last four days had scratched away his imperviousness to her feelings. Whatever was bugging her, he wanted to set it right. He wanted to hold her hand, have her look at him, and tell him that they were okay. Then he knew that the ache he'd started to feel in his stomach and his head would disappear.

He had a sneaking suspicion that whatever it was that had spun Casey off-course might have its origin in his room, the previous night. Could she be this mad at him for falling asleep while she was with him? But then he'd shown her in every way he could that she was the still point in his turning world, the one he trusted above anyone.

Casey was not a shallow person, or one who would have her ego bruised if he didn't pay her attention every minute they were together. In fact, her oddly self-sufficient attitude at school in the past couple of days, the way she'd meet his eyes with a twinkle, bite her lip, but demand nothing, not even a passing caress, had come closer than anything ever previously to making him rethink his policy on public displays of affection.

So, it clearly wasn't that she was angry with him for not complimenting her or making out as he might have with other girls in their hour together last night.

He wasn't going to lie – at least to himself. He had his share of faults, and there were a number of things she could have seen in his room had she chosen to look, that might have upset her deeply. He had magazines and pictures, notes from old girlfriends lying around, stupid and insulting rhymes about Casey that he'd scribbled in books or on the computer at times of highest irritation over the previous four years, and especially in the early days of their tension-charged rivalry.

Practice ended after what seemed like a gazillion years.

Unwilling to dissect his poor performance in public – pride was another of his faults, he knew – yet unable to leave until Coach allowed him to go, Derek stood moodily, clutching his stick, leaning against a wall, dripping with sweat. Everyone was in a foul temper because of the unexpected heat. They all wanted to get out of there and resented the extra telling-off they were getting mainly because Derek had been off his game. Sam was signaling Derek to act nice; if the captain acquiesced to Coach's berating, if he acknowledged that they'd put on a poor show and looked willing to improve, then they'd get out all the quicker. But all Derek did was bite his lip and look away. Let the man rant. He was certain he deserved this.

Somehow it ended. Although it was now past five, the sun's rays slanted at them as intensely as they had at noon. He'd changed his shirt but his fresh clothing was already soaked. Perspiration ran in rills off his hair and into his eyes as he tried vainly to get a little air in the Prince. But where was his princess? And his mind would not let go of its dread. Had something happened to change Casey's mind about him completely? Was she regretting her brief romance with him and freezing him out because she had decided that it simply would not work out between them and was trying to move on without making a girlish fuss?

The intensity and ache of grief that shot across his body at this thought surprised Derek completely. His very fingertips throbbed at the thought of losing her. He thumped the steering wheel and dialed her number with feverish speed.

Finally, driving dangerously, he managed to get her on her cell-phone. The very same one he had given her a year ago when she'd helped him out with his business. Amazing how he hadn't understood his attraction towards her then, when he was ill and she his helper, or been able to deal with her lovely, clumsy, charming presence in his room, her devotion to him utterly disarming even when she had been in trouble; his own loyalty leaping into flame unbidden; chain reactions misunderstood by both of them.

Oh, blessed sound of ringing, and then the answering click.

'Case, oh God, Case! I'm so glad you picked up', he murmured incoherently, 'What the hell have I done? Will you just tell me? I can't take much more of this. Really. Just talk to me, okay?'

He was expecting her to switch off her phone. He was expecting her to say, 'Go to hell!' the way angry heroines do in chick-flicks just before they burst into tears.

But instead she just said, 'Okay.' And her voice sounded as placid and matter of fact as if she was speaking to her dentist. Except that she had used _his_ name. 'Okay, Derek', she said. Just like that.

**Next chapter: we're approaching a finale, I think. Review and you'll see.**


	17. Silent Tango

**I don't own LWD. **

**Dear readers, sincere apologies for the delay in updating. I have been away – in Montreal and NYC, both very exciting cities and each has given me loads of new ideas for our lovely heroine and handsome hero… but maybe for another story, who knows.**

**Previously:** _Oh, blessed sound of ringing, and then the answering click._

'_Case, oh God, Case! I'm so glad you picked up', he murmured incoherently, 'What the hell have I done? Will you just tell me? I can't take much more of this. Really. Just talk to me, okay?' He was expecting her to switch off her phone. He was expecting her to say, 'Go to hell!' the way angry heroines do in chick-flicks just before they burst into tears. But instead she just said, 'Okay.' And her voice sounded as placid and matter of fact as if she was speaking to her dentist. Except that she had used his name. 'Okay, Derek', she said. Just like that._

Chapter Sixteen: **Silent Tango**

She was sitting on the porch as Derek drove up, with Marti playing at her feet and a half drunk smoothie held loosely in one hand. She looked up at him as if nothing had ruffled the calm waters between them, and he thought that she patted the porch step as he got out of the car. Dizzy from the heat and his mad rush from school, Derek wanted to yell with delight and relief, punch a fist in the air, to celebrate her lack of rancour and the bright turquoise of her eyes.

As he drew closer, he noticed that sweat had beaded across her upper lip. He thought briefly about kissing it off. Oh, how much he had yet to learn about Casey!

But seriously, wasn't that the point of being in a relationship? Didn't it mean learning about each other over a lengthy period of time, not just quick physical thrills and the dying heat of honey from the early days?

How many of us know about the sheer tired-out-and-beaten-downness of actually loving someone day-in-day-out and listening to the paper-thin, almost inaudible sound of their anxieties, grumpiness, lack of trust? How many of us can claim the privilege of knowing someone completely and being known, not just the dating-them-for-a-month thing that some of us have going these days?

Derek sure as hell didn't know – at least not yet. And he was the sort of person who usually took liberties before he had truly earned them.

But he was going to find out just that evening, that while the tango is a terribly sexy dance for two, doing it in silence and imperceptibly, so that the rest of your family think you're just polishing the furniture, is exhausting in the extreme. Or, put another way, maintaining the casual cool of your 'Casey's just my annoying step-sister' exterior, while trying to placate, calm and charm her, in front of a mystified audience of friends, parents, neighbours and siblings, is almost too much even for the king of cool.

'Hey, Smarti!'

'Hey, Smerek!' She barely looked up from her animals. All purple again today. Where on earth did she find so many stuffed purple lions?

'Hey, Case, missing me much?'

Silence.

Comfortable silence? Well, perhaps.

He looked sideways at her, wondering if he dared risk sitting with his arm against hers while Marti played beside them, arranging and rearranging her purple stuffed animals into different coloured wigs. Hang on a sec! _They do wigs for animals these days? _

Despite the longed-for thrill the arm contact promised, and the secretly craved reassurance, he decided not to risk it.

Casey had a far-away look in her eyes.

He could tell that she wasn't really relaxed. Something about the way she held the smoothie glass, the tilt and the tautness of her slim fingers, alerted him to the fact that Casey McDonald was figuring out a way to tell him something. And suddenly he was desperate again. Completely craven. Did not want her to open her up lips. Derek knew enough to know that if he was truly forgiven for whatever it was that she was mad at him about then her eyes would have been focused on him and nowhere else. In that way at least, Casey was a straightforward person.

'Please.' His throat was dry. 'You have to trust me. Whatever you saw in my room. I swear I can explain it.' Was that him just whispering those words? The old him, the one who had neither explained nor apologised for an entire decade, shrivelled in fascinated horror.

He saw Casey's look of incredulity; her almost-bitten jerk of recognition. And then they were not alone with Marti any more, for Emily was waving from across the fence, George pulling up in the car, face slick with traffic-induced sweat and Nora just coming out of the now open door, drying her hands on a tea-towel and smiling broadly at the frantically waving Emily.

'D'you want to come over for a swim? My mom says we all need to cool off?' Emily shouted, at the same moment when Nora said, 'Dinner – who wants to help me set the table?'

They all looked at each other.

Casey murmured, 'Mom, can I go over?' and received a quick nod and the request, 'Be back in an hour'. Instead of acknowledging Derek's presence or his urgent but silent demand that she talk to him, she barely looked around before gliding off. What on earth?!

Marti, unexpectedly, yelled, 'Me and the animals will lay the table' and shrugged herself off the steps with arms full.

George wiped an arm across his face and looked up at the hazy sky. 'Storm coming, I think.'

'Wishful thinking as usual', muttered Derek to his retreating back. But then he too felt the impressive weight of the atmosphere and pushed himself up off the step. He thought briefly about asking Emily if he was invited to swim too, but then the thought of Casey, brown and lithe in her bikini, pretending he didn't exist for some unfathomable reason, was too humiliating; and he went into the house instead.

Inside it was blissfully cool. Derek wanted to throw down his bag, strip off his clothes and lie down on the tiles of the hallway floor as he used to when he was a toddler.

Showering after a restless meal with the family, Derek tried to think back over all the things he'd told Casey the previous night, but the only things he could come up with were the sad and perfectly mature memories about his grandparents, which he had never shared with anyone else and did not think could have angered her. As the water stopped and he towelled off, he began to feel more and more irritable and frustrated.

He was so busy thinking that he didn't hear the bathroom door open and a startled squeal was his first indication that Casey had entered the bathroom. Duh. He'd left the door unlocked as usual. He had a towel on and so did she, around her swimming things. Immediately, awkward desire swirled around them; he was sure he felt it; but did she?

'Casey.' He thought she looked sad.

She tried to back out of the room but he caught her elbow.

'What did you put in the envelope?' She blurted it out, and suddenly he knew what he'd done and smacked himself on the forehead. So she'd found her own letter. Well, it would have come out soon, anyway, right?

'Come in my room, please?' He whispered.

'Der-_ek._ Just tell me, now. Just tell me. What awful thing did you do?' Her voice was hoarse. God. She really thought he'd messed her around. Played the prank of all pranks. And why shouldn't she? After all, there'd been the locker and the clothes and the hair and the poem in the school paper… the list wasn't pretty. Except that this time her lack of trust burnt him like an unexpected spark from a party sparkler.

He reached behind Casey and locked the bathroom door. If they were going to have it out in this unusual place, then it had better be in privacy. His hand brushed hers and she flinched as if she couldn't bear to have any contact with him, then she slid down and sat on the floor, knees up to her chest, and pulled the towel right around her. Derek bit his lip.

'I just accepted their offer on your behalf, okay? I did you a favour. So chill.'

'WHAT?' Okay, even he had to admit that spoken out loud, the hubris of what he'd done sounded bad. But she didn't have to shout.

'Shush!'

'Everything alright in there?' Nora was returning from putting Marti to bed.

'Just peachy.'

'Fighting over the toothpaste. G'night Mom.' Casey had learnt a lot from him.

'Oh, that old game! I won't interfere then. Good night, Casey. Derek.'

'You. Went in my things. You. Opened my letter. YOU did the opposite of what I'd decided. And you think that I should be pleased?'

Casey was breathing fast, her fantastic eyes on his pleading ones, unflinching now.

He knew he had to make her understand.

'I just didn't want you turning down the place you'd been waiting for all this time. You deserve that place. Okay? You'll be great in Toronto.'

'Oh, so you'll get to stay in London, make out with all the flimsy blondes you want during the week and be sweet to me at week-ends? And mom and George won't suspect a thing. Genius! Wow, making conversation with me must be such a chore!'

He was stunned – by her lack of faith in him; by the low self-esteem evinced in her speech. And the worst thing was, he knew that he'd made her think all those things by the way he'd behaved and spoken over the last few years, the girls he'd brought home, the barbed comments about her boring personality.

This would be absolutely the right moment to tell her about his university acceptance and his pleasure in her company. But pride – or embarrassment, or something subtler about the balance of their fragile friendship – made him weirdly hesitant. This was not how he had planned on telling her. There was enough of the old Derek left to make him kick against such an anticlimax. Rationally he knew that she was less angry than upset, but he was stung by her words and maturity suddenly didn't seem tenable any more.

'Oh, Case, don't flatter yourself. If I wanted to _make out_ with other girls, I'd do it with you here at home like I always have. And what would you say? Huh? Nothing. You're a total wimp. I knew you never wanted me to date – but did you do anything about it except whine about my taste in girls? _No._ At least I can make you be mine, properly.' She hugged herself tighter.

Could you speak and want to hold your words in at the same time? Derek had just done that. And now, belatedly, he suddenly wondered why she had been turning down the place at all? She still wasn't speaking, so, all anger gone, just curious, he asked,

'Why did you want to stay here anyway? I thought you were mad about Toronto.'

She didn't answer and Derek turned, opened the door and left the bathroom, deliberately leaving the door ajar. He felt exhausted. He was shaking, nauseous with disappointment in himself and in her. Neither of them deserved to be trusted. Just twenty-four hours ago, he had wanted to strip to his soul for Casey. Just three nights ago, she had offered herself to him with so much faith.

Hysteria and rage tasted so bitter, Derek wondered how anyone, ever, survived past the edge of first love.

Tomorrow, he would have to lower his pride, tell her the whole truth, and find out.

**Hey, I know I said that all would be revealed between them, but it seemed appropriate to space the finale out! Review and tell me how it felt. More soon and keep your interesting comments coming.**


	18. Wrong Turns

**I don't own LWD.**

**Seriously, thank you so much to those of you who have stayed the course of this story, readers and reviewers. I know getting to the end is a bit of a tease. But then, so is life, at times. **

Previously: _'Why did you want to stay here anyway? I thought you were mad about Toronto.' Casey didn't answer and Derek turned, opened the door and left the bathroom, deliberately leaving the door ajar. _

_He felt exhausted. He was shaking, nauseous with disappointment in himself and in her. Neither of them deserved to be trusted. Just twenty-four hours ago, he had wanted to strip to his soul for Casey. Just three nights ago, she had offered herself to him with so much faith. Hysteria and rage tasted so bitter, he wondered how anyone, ever, survived past the edge of first love. Tomorrow, he would have to lower his pride, tell her the whole truth, and find out._

**Chapter Seventeen: Wrong Turns**

As Derek asked her why she hadn't wanted to leave, Casey couldn't look at him. She was already trembling silently after his uncalled for and painful rebuke. Stubbornness ruled that speaking now would indicate she had forgiven him. You've been there, perhaps - to that point where someone you love boundlessly wounds you in a manner which makes you want to hurt them back. So she hesitated.

This would have been her cue to say, 'Because I wanted to be around _you_, Derek, mean and annoying as you can be. Because I couldn't _imagine_ not being beside you for the next three years...'

It would have been the truth. But even last night's truth is a most deniable thing when filtered through hurt and disappointment.

At that moment, Casey couldn't understand why she had wanted to guillotine her future for this stranger. She could have said this. But she didn't have the kind of venom in her that Derek had just so easily thrown in her direction, and she was still too inexperienced to recognise the palpable hurt behind his cruelty. So she stayed silent. Clutching the towel to her now chilled frame. Almost crying but not quite.

Casey's day had begun in the still sunrise warmth after a night of edgy dreams. In one of them, she'd been driving for hours down a bumpy track, had run out of gas, and looked frantically for a house or a sign, but found nothing. Ahead of her and behind were simply miles and miles of dust road and fields. She'd parked the car, taken out a map, and found inside its folds a scribbled note: _never turn down the dirt road_. Phew. In another, she was Marti's age, and sitting on her bed in her best dress. A man entered her room carrying a wrapped gift and from behind she thought it was a father. 'Daddy!' she started to say; but when he turned, she was frozen. For the man was Derek, and he smiled, patted her on the head, and left the room. Her sense of loss and frustration shrunk the room to a husk. In the most disturbing dream, driving again, she'd noticed that Derek was lying under a blanket on the back seat of the car. Glancing in her mirror repeatedly to see if he was breathing or not, she almost ran into a girl thumbing a lift at the side of the road. As she wound down her window to speak to the girl, she found that she could not open her mouth, and that chillingly she was on an unfamiliar road, in an unfamiliar car, and that the girl was looking at her with hatred in her eyes, pointing to Derek. When she followed the pointing finger with her gaze, she woke herself up.

The first thing she'd noticed on waking had been the lack of breeze. The second was the crumpled letter still in her fist, its sharp folds now etched into her soft cheek, if she had but known it, mirroring the lines of another letter on Derek's face just a few dawns before. With the sight of it, came immediate memory. And the worry, which had so recently inhabited her dreams, became her faithful companion all through that sultry day, causing her to behave in a manner that she would later recall and despise.

So it was that she was ready and walking to school even before Marti – the earliest riser in the household – had stirred from her comfy bed. So it was that she told Emily enough of the story to stun and infuriate her friend into blanking Derek for much of the day. Hearing that Casey had received her acceptance from Toronto, and replied, only to discover that Derek had done something to sabotage this reply – and being unaware that the reply was a _refusal_ or that Derek was now more to Casey than just a stepbrother– Emily had been shocked and sympathetic.

Almost hysterical with anxiety about what Derek had actually sent to the University admissions' tutor – at one point she even thought he might have photocopied some unmentionable portion of his anatomy, like _Horrid Henry_, in an attempt to humiliate her – Casey did not for a moment consider that he had simply switched an acceptance for a refusal with perfectly genuine affection as a motive.

Having heard Derek through Casey's tales and unlearnt her crush through Casey's bitchy anecdotes over the years, Emily had been of little comfort and had frightened Casey even more by her dire predictions about what Derek might have sent.

'Perhaps he put in THAT picture of you and Max – you know the one where…'

'Oh No! Casey! I think I know what he sent! Could it have been that poem – the one with your name on it, remember…'

And then, wringing her hands, she'd said, 'But how will we _ever_ find out? I mean, we'd have to write to them again – or even worse ring the admissions office. They're never going to respond to you as things stand, are they? They'll just think you're a joke!' And then, thumping herself on the brow, 'Aw Casey, come on! I didn't mean it like that…'

To Casey, poised and almost arrogant in her hauteur about others' stunts and puerile behaviours, the thought of being viewed as a dunce, a prankster or a good-for-nothing by even the lowliest clerk at the University to which she had aspired from almost the day she could write was total anathema.

She squirmed. She googled tragedies on the library computers in an attempt to bring a sense of proportion back to her life, but she found only more misery, for typing in the word 'War' she was confronted by pictures of dead children and burnt out cars and buildings and then, unexpectedly, the heartbreaking story of a teenage boy, from a dirt poor town in Kentucky, who had signed up to fight against unknown strangers in the hopes of receiving an education and ended up back in his village, at nineteen, with no legs and a distraught family. That certainly put things in proportion for a while and Casey's eyes filled spontaneously as she shut down her computer and quit her quest. The lives of others were so often too tragic to dwell on. But paranoia did not get its reputation by giving up on its victims so easily.

She sat in the restrooms until her head throbbed from the smell and the fluorescent lights. She avoided the person who had, she assumed, put her into this position, because if she'd confronted him at school everyone in the whole building would have heard their screams. And because, whatever she said, _whatever he had done_, she would, she suspected, end up back against his chest again. Melodramatic? Yes. But then that was her middle name. And what would you have done in her position?

The weather had been and still was unseasonably hot and not a soul except Casey seemed to have studies on their minds, despite the approaching examinations.

Nora had rung apologetically to ask her to pick up some things for tea on her way home, and Emily had obligingly dropped her off at the store. Casey had felt as if she were floating in the midst of a giant heated blanket, sweaty and chilled by turns as she shopped for broccoli and olives and feta cheese. It was the longest that she had been without speaking to Derek in weeks, and she was missing him with every footstep, beginning to wonder if her dignity or anything in her life was worth the effort of ignoring him thus. And why hadn't he called her? Wasn't it a man's duty to guess immediately and precisely what he had done wrong to his beloved, to pursue her elusive form tirelessly and to apologise without limits? What was taking him so long? Then she'd remembered that he'd had practice.

After an afternoon of pretend hairdresser-zoo-mania with Marti's animals, when she could hardly bear the heavy, sulkiness in her mind any longer, she accepted Derek's phone call without any clear anticipation of where it would lead.

Although she did not show them, or tried to hide them, happy thoughts danced through her the second he'd seated himself on the step beside her, smelling of shower-gel and sweat, with his dark hair still dishevelled from the helmet. His arm was so close to hers, they could have touched, accidentally, and the whole appalling day, and the night that preceded it, would have melted into the sun-baked air.

Licking the last of a raspberry smoothie from her lips, she'd glanced covertly at him to gauge his mood when he asked if she'd missed him. His tone was lighter than it had been on the phone, more like his confrontational Derek-like self – but she could tell it was partly a facade. It reminded her of the time when he'd thought that he'd be leaving them all to go live with his mother to Spain. The tautness around his eyes, the complete lack of mischief there to match the words, had made her physically sick then, and it acted equally powerfully now, stilling much of her earlier paranoia. With him beside her, she'd intended – at least at that moment she'd thought she intended – to have a civilized conversation and to end their bad humour.

So how they got from their guarded but now delicious silence on the patio-step, to the furious row in the bathroom, to her sobbing, hysterically, alone in the dark on her bed was something of a mystery to her. And yet, that's where she ended up, un-showered and still in her bikini at two am, saying miserably to herself, every few minutes, 'You fool! That's IT now. That's. The. End. The end.'

**Send your messages. Your words are much looked-forward to! Just a couple of short chapters left, but that's okay because there are some tantalising stories up at the moment by talented writers on this site.**


	19. Thunder

**Don't own LWD – but come on, by now I sure feel as if I own my story… if anyone thinks differently, I'd like to hear from them – (not). But reviews – always grateful for those and to those who review!**

_Previously: So how they got from their guarded but now delicious silence on the patio-step, to the furious row in the bathroom, to her sobbing, hysterically, alone in the dark on her bed was something of a mystery to her. And yet, that's where she ended up, un-showered and still in her bikini, saying miserably to herself, every few minutes, 'You fool! That's IT now. That's. The. End. The end.' _

**Chapter Eighteen – Thunder**

The storm, which George had predicted, arrived at four minutes past two that Thursday morning. It veined the already luminous sky with white lightning before rolling out the big guns.

Derek greeted the thunder with candid relief, for its noise drowned out the dismal sound of his much-loved and desired stepsister crying about him in the room next door. His conscience, of course, was much harder to silence.

Walking away from her in the bathroom the previous night had been simple. His anger at her refusal to understand his actions in 'rescuing' her letter, the absurdity of their argument, the fierce and totally untrue words spoken at the crescendo of their annoyance, all these things had propelled him away from her and fuelled his wish to be alone. But staying in his room, during the hours that followed… ugh!

For the first time in his life, Derek had longed to belong to one of those families where privacy did not exist – he was actually not bad at Human Geography; had paid attention in class and remembered the videos about slums in India, the dirt poor barrios in Brazil and Mexico – where all the children and adults and chickens and mice were forced to congregate together in a single, sociable, smothering, communal space. If they – the so very high-and-mighty McDonalds, and the Venturi peasants – had lived like that, he'd have had to develop self-control, and would neither have had the opportunity nor the space to upset Casey so repeatedly and so much. Everyone would now know that he'd got a place at University – it would not be some Guilty Secret. Nor would his beloved girl have been able to avoid him by shutting her door; shutting him out. Yeah, he thought, sardonically, there were downsides to being pampered First World kids.

And she'd still been crying. He'd had to keep telling himself that Casey's tears – oh he could hear them loud and clear through the thin wall between their rooms – were the sick, manipulative weapons with which so many women got so many men to just buckle and apologise even when the blokes hadn't done anything wrong. And the apologies, fake or real, often set the pattern of a relationship, and set the one who apologised on a road that he would rather not be treading.

Despite these powerful arguments, Derek struggled not to just slam open her door and give her a hug.

God, why did that suddenly make him think about the day she sang for D-Rock and knowingly, deliciously, utterly meltingly performed the song _his way_, stripping off her shirt and moulding herself to him as he played the chords of his life. _Phew. She could sing._

And then at nine minutes past eleven, he'd had a shock, because layered over Casey's mournful exclamations and sobs he heard voices in the corridor outside.

'What d'you think? Should we call Nora?' That was Edwin, sleepy and solemn.

'Maybe she just had a bad day? I don't want to wake mom up for nothing… but you're right, she does sound bad. I hope she's not _ill_, so close to finals.' That was Lizze, clearly on the verge of hysteria.

'How d'you feel about checking on her? She usually opens up to you.'

'_Hello!_ Earth to Mars…Can't you see I'm asleep on my feet – are you up for a venting session at this hour – na, didn't think so.'

'Bed, then?'

'Yup. Check on her in the morning.' There was some shuffling around. They must have had their ears to Casey's door. Then Edwin spoke in a normal voice.

'Can't believe _Derek_ hasn't come out to tell her to shush. He's usually really nervy just before his big games. Must've gone to bed early and be fast asleep!'

'As we should be! Night, Ed.'

'Night, Liz.' Some shuffling, a soft swish and then silence.

Derek had sighed in relief, and then he'd groaned.

Fighting with Casey a year ago used to be so much fun. She was irked by almost everything, such a little kid in her anger. And he was always on the verge of breaking down into laughter at her tantrums, hugging her to him, shushing her cross words with kisses – or with wet sponges, hair-spray, dirty rags, spaghetti – and then, perhaps, kisses. Okay, he did everything else and never kissed her. Oh, the tension between them had been almost haunting. There was nothing even vaguely pleasant about how he was feeling now.

Although he'd spent three hours thinking it would be better not to hear her desperate crying, the sudden thrashing of rain on the roof was muffling the sound of her sobs and making him even more edgy.

And now suddenly he wanted to hear Casey because when he didn't all he could think about and imagine were Casey's tear-stained face and trembling lips. Hard as he'd tried to maintain the 'I don't do tears' image over the years, there was not a single occasion on which water from Casey's eyes had left him anything but weak in the heart and at the knees.

He pushed himself up off his bed, stopped every yammering stammering thought in his love-fuddled brain, and marched into Casey's room.

And when she twisted round on her bed to look at him – how had he imagined her face? Well, it looked far sadder than he'd imagined, far more crest-fallen, little-child-fallen-down-ish. Her eyes were almost closed from crying. Her usually creamy skin was blotchy. She was almost unable to get her voice out, and Derek certainly couldn't understand what she'd said.

So he didn't know she was asking if he'd come there to fight with her some more, or tell her some more home truths and that she was ready for his insults because she didn't care about him or anything he had to say anymore. Which was a good thing. Because if he'd understood her seemingly hostile words, he might not have been half out of his mind with remorse and panic at her state, and he might not have done what he did…Which was to throw himself down full-length on the bed beside Casey, and cuddle her fiercely and soothingly and tenderly, whispering 'I got into Toronto too; I did it for you, Casey. So we could see what it's like to fight over the remote control without being interrupted every five minutes. Do you still hate me for rewriting your letter?' until lightning and rain were no more than delicate stains on locally parked cars in Thursday's azure dawn.

**Dah..dah..dah…okay, okay, that's not really the end. Forgive me if I'm making you crazy with these false plateaus, but this story just has a logic of its own and will not be rushed, a bit like when my pedantic, nearly-five year old wants to tell me about how he got 'that' cut on his finger…loooong story! Oh and can all you silent alert readers and visitors please, please review so I'll be motivated to write another LWD story when this one finishes? I have an idea but so little time.**


	20. The Ripeness of Perfect Fruit

**Don't own the show. Reviewers, readers, silent alert people, thank you.**

_**Previously:**__ If Derek had understood Casey's seemingly hostile words, he might not have been half out of his mind with remorse and panic at her state, and he might not have done what he did…Which was to throw himself down full-length on the bed beside Casey, and cuddle her fiercely and soothingly and tenderly, whispering 'I got into Toronto too; I did it for you, Casey. So we could see what it's like to fight over the remote control without being interrupted every five minutes. Do you still hate me for rewriting your letter?'_

**Chapter Nineteen – The Ripeness of Perfect Fruit**

Everything will look better in the morning. Those were the soft words which Nora used to say to Casey every time she cried. Whether the tears fell because the other children in the kindergarten class had left little Casey to tidy up the mess after their playtime fun with soapy water (yes, perhaps she had reminded them a couple of times that mess was NOT NICE), or because of an accidentally overheard bitter argument between her parents, Casey could only ever remember wanting to sleep at once to erase the memories of misery. Because, however much she fought the thought, most things did, usually, look a lot better in the morning.

Thursday, just past seven am, Casey opened her eyes and found herself gazing into the sleeping face of her all-time favourite enemy. Quiescent like this, he looked younger than his eighteen years; lips almost too perfect for a boy, brows relaxed and tousled hair lush.

They were lying jumbled together, his left arm under her head; her right leg over his. Casey couldn't move. She didn't want to.

The night returned to her in a dolphin splash of warm water – first incandescent colour, then pale muslin memory – disbelief, hysteria, rage and reconciliation – telescoping into a few seconds and making her raise her hands to her cheeks to check if she was now aflame. She could feel the salty trails her tears had made and the smooth spaces where they had been whispered off.

Saying that it had 'felt good' to be held securely by the person she'd been alternately cursing and worrying about for hours would have been one of those weak clichés that she abhorred. Understatement was just not her thing.

Derek's embrace had felt like a reprieve from the brink of unutterable pain and like ice-cream and warm cookies and the house to yourself on Sunday afternoons and Saturday-night movies and unexpected presents and passing your driving test all rolled into one. Forget all that. Having Derek stumble wildly into her room in the middle of the night and wrap his arms around her reinstated Casey's happiness and confidence in a single instant. And then, while she was still swallowing recalcitrant sobs: his _incredible _confession about University. In a comic-book version of this sequence, you'd have seen a light bulb flash on in Casey's thought-box, beside umpteen pink hearts, exclamation marks and smiley faces. Instead she'd shivered in his arms just at the implications, the unfurling possibilities, of their being together and alone in Toronto; children no longer.

'Morning, Princess.' His eyes were open now, squinting slightly against the light.

She framed his face with her hands, pulling him towards her; then she stopped just short of touching his lips and looked frightened.

'It's okay, we didn't oversleep – you'll still have the privilege of every single boring lesson today.' Derek was wondering how she managed to look so fresh after crying half the night and sleeping four hours on his rock hard biceps (Ha! Perhaps he'd better hold that thought). She was speaking again.

'No, I mean, I know that. I just didn't know if… I wasn't sure if – you're still talking to me - I mean after how I behaved.'

'Are you trying to _apologise_, McDonald?' His voice sounded lazy or perhaps just very tired; but he kept his arm tight around her the whole time. 'Does this mean that you accept what I did? You're not going to go crazy on me if I let you go?'

'_I _went crazy_?' _Casey's voice rose sharply. But then, seeing his appalled expression, made more comical by the owl-like circles around his eyes, she chuckled. 'Okay, okay, I did a bit; and for the record I _am_ sorry for not giving you the benefit of the doubt. You tried to make me happy and all I did was mistrust you.' They were both silent for a few moments, contemplating the terrible pain that each had felt at being misunderstood by the other, resolving to try not to hurt the other again.

'And are you happy now?' He asked, cautiously, sidestepping the issue of blame.

'I _am_, Derek! More than you can imagine. You – and – me – for so long – in one place – and you – _University_ – _amazing_ – no – I don't mean it like that! Oh my god, Derek!' She couldn't hold out any longer and brushed her lips against his, stunned by how feverishly he kissed her back and at how she felt when he did, for their embrace reminded her of the ripeness of perfect summer fruit, everything in balance, glowing sun-stained and beautiful and moving and motionless at the same time. Oh Derek, don't ever stop!

But eventually, like all perfect things, the kiss ended.

Slightly embarrassed again, and unwilling to look at each other, they moved apart. Derek stretched and casually untangled himself from his stepsister's limbs; Casey reluctantly climbed off her bed and tiptoed to the door to check if anyone was about. Despite having remained awake most of the night, they seemed to be the only ones awake on their corridor.

She motioned for him to get up and he did, glancing with amusement at her attire, for she was still wearing her bikini. Their eyes met, and Casey whispered, 'Don't. Say. A. Word.' She sounded fierce, so he left silently, not even pulling her to him as he desperately wanted to.

But then, when he was showering, he heard her knocking softly on the door and calling his name.

'What is it, Case? Can't it wait ten minutes?'

'No it cannot. I want to pee. Please Derek, really bad.'

Wrapping a towel around his dripping body, he stepped out of the shower and unlocked the door. Casey, now wearing a neat pink shirt and shorts, slid into the steamy bathroom. But instead of making for the toilet, she shut the door swiftly and put her arms around him.

'Hey!' But Derek couldn't say any more, because he could hardly breathe, she was hugging him so tight.

'Derek Venturi, I didn't want you being in the bathroom and thinking about all the things we said last night. I wanted you to have something good to remember to replace that disgusting toad of a memory.' She pressed a soft kiss to his wet shoulder and another to the side of his mouth.

Still clutching his towel, and trying to keep his body away from hers despite stray thoughts to the contrary, it was Derek's turn to laugh.

'Guess I'm lucky you're such a superstitious Spacehead. But you know my brain doesn't do your girly 'dwelling', so you've got nothing to worry about on that score. Now pee or get out before we get busted!'

'Oi! I'm not peeing in front of you, now or ever, Doofus. So get out yourself.' And with that Casey unceremoniously shoved her erstwhile partner-in-crime out of the bathroom, still wrapped in his towel, and locked the door against him.

She proceeded to sing all the way through her shower, to sing all the while she dressed, and to sing her way down the stairs, arriving with a twirl at breakfast, at three minutes to eight, to find Nora, George, Edwin, Marti and Lizzie all gazing at her, speechless. Then they started talking at once, and with unusual perspicacity, Casey realized that they had been talking about her.

'So? No pancakes today?' Derek's cheery voice cut through the babble, leaving in its wake the second complete silence of the morning.

'Okay', Nora said quietly, as if to herself, 'Spill the beans, both of you. This bonhomie is NOT a coincidence.' She may have looked frazzled and ineffective when it came to Cornelia Richardson, but Nora sure as hell knew her daughter and stepson. After hearing Lizzie's horrible tale of nighttime weeping from Casey's room, and the suspicious fact of Derek's absence from the scene, she was convinced that something untoward had happened. Although they all had to be breakfasted and out of the house in just about ten minutes, she wanted to know the facts.

Fleetingly, Casey's eyes darted to Derek's in total panic. But he stayed cool. Lying was his oldest, safest subject. And sure enough, his voice came out steady as ever, cool and even slightly self-satisfied.

'Do you want the good news, or the bad, first?'

George groaned. Casey gasped. But Nora said calmly, 'Bad, please, Derek.'

'Okay, I was hoping you'd say that. Well, I know it's going to make you all cry buckets', he turned slightly and emptied some cereal into a bowl, 'But … I'm not going to be living at home next year.' Milk followed the cereal. He didn't look at anyone.

'What?!' There was a collective shout.

'You're going to jail?' That was Edwin.

Marti dropped her spoon into her bowl and prepared to cry in real earnest.

'Now the GOOD news is, you won't have to share the bathroom with Casey and her lotions either, because _she's_ not going to be home either.'

Nora was on her feet.

'You got your acceptance letter? Oh, my darling girl! I'm so thrilled! They accepted you. I knew they would, didn't I Georgie?'

But George didn't respond, because he was still looking at his eldest son, whose face was literally glowing with happiness, despite the haggard eyes.

'Nora, why don't we let Derek finish? I think he has something more to tell us.' Nora and Casey turned from their squealing and hugging.

'Okay, okay. Here's the deal.' Derek said, shoveling cereal into his mouth like he'd not seen food for a week, avoiding eye contact. 'I got into Toronto University on a hockey scholarship – found out a couple of days back. Casey got in on a keener scholarship. She cried herself to sleep last night at the thought that I got my letter the day before she did…Pipped to the post by a mere peasant… But now that she knows I hid hers for a prank – her ego's satisfied.' This last fabrication was spoken with a coy glance at Lizzie, who blushed. Derek knew then he' d been right to mention the crying and to explain away Casey's bizarre and joyous singing. Killing several birds with one stone was his speciality.

'This is the truth, Casey?' George's voice was hoarse from shock, and sterner than the news warranted.

'Uh huh. Just about, George.'

The next five minutes were true McDonald-Venturi mayhem. Edwin was up and trying to high five his brother. Marti was sobbing against Derek's legs. Lizzie and Casey and Nora were hugging and crying. Only George sat quietly on his stool at the Island, gazing with a mixture of suspicion and pride at his son. Over the heads of the others, Derek looked straight at him, and winked.

'Can I borrow the car at the weekend, dad? We want to go and check out the University.' Derek's voice was casual. He hoped that none of them remembered him making the same request the previous weekend.

'Why don't we all go?' Nora clapped her hands and turned hopefully to George, who was still looking thoughtful.

'Time to go, everyone. We'll discuss the car situation tonight, Derek. And Nora, let's talk on the way, okay. Right, anyone who wants a lift to school, be at the door in three minutes. Yes, Lizzie, that means breakfasted and bathed. Now Marti, be a doll and stop crying, your brother will have time for you wherever he lives.'

George was a lawyer. He was trained to sift evidence and to read between the lines. Although Derek and Casey had backed each other up about the university story – and they surely hadn't made it up because it would have been so easy to check – he felt certain that there was something they were concealing.

His instinct turned to certainty when he saw the look of infinite tenderness his stepdaughter cast in Derek's direction when she thought no one was watching.

**Concluding chapter up soon - review and you'll get it. I'll miss you guys and the story. When I have a bad day at work I come on this site, or write a chapter and voila! Happy again.**


	21. Really Being Alive

**I don't own LWD now or ever. Thank you so much, readers and reviewers, for being so faithful and surprisingly kind. Pass on the story to friends if you liked it. I'm a big believer in word of mouth! (Absolutely gutted to be at the end. But… I'll be back.)**

**Previously: **_George was a lawyer. He was trained to sift evidence and to read between the lines. Although Derek and Casey had backed each other up about the university story – and they surely hadn't made it up because it would have been so easy to check – he felt that there was something they were concealing. His instinct turned to certainty when he saw the look of infinite tenderness his stepdaughter cast in Derek's direction when she thought no one was watching._

**Chapter Twenty - The difference between living and just being alive**

Car lights glinted red and yellow through the rain. Everything else on the highway was smudged brown and grey. But neither of the car's occupants seemed even remotely depressed about the weather. The atmosphere was almost as joyous as it had been the day their joint documentary on modern blended families had aired in class all those months ago. In fact, contrary to all forecasts, the temperature between the two front seats was somewhere in the nineties, as if a tropical island had just landed beneath their feet.

'How on earth did you manage it?' Casey wasn't driving, so it was easier for her to keep her eyes on his profile, brown hair just brushing the collar of his shirt. 'I'm just going to keep bugging you till you tell me.' He remained silent. 'Seriously, I will chew away at you piece by piece till you tell me.'

'Like always.' He muttered.

'Like always.' She said, reaching out and placing cool fingers against his hot cheek, then trailing her hand down to his shoulder, via his neck, blushing with pleasure at the ensuing shiver. 'George _never_ lets us use this car and mom was ultra-keen to have the whole family come along and see where we're going to be next year. So, spill.'

'Fine. But don't get mad, okay?' In honour of the family car, Derek was watching the road more carefully than usual, so she wasn't sure if she was imagining the glint in his eyes.

'Der-_ek_! What did you tell them?'

'I said', he was laughing already. She hadn't imagined it. 'I said that you would stay home for seven days and nights with the kids after your finals and wait on them hand and foot, while Nora and dad go to Paris for a post honey-moon jaunt.' Casey gasped, her hand flew off his shoulder, balled into a fist and thumped him fiercely on the thigh; he gasped, but he didn't allow her to interrupt. 'You know dad's got a case that needs seeing to over there, and Nora's been longing to go; she just couldn't figure out what to do with Marti and Lizzie and Edwin for so long…'

WHAT? How did Derek know all this? Mom had only just told her last night, with a pointedly mournful air, about George's fancy new case that just had to be followed up in Paris and she had nodded sympathetically. Then Casey's brain processed the deal Derek had done. Traded a week of her time for a day in her company. Some trade. But was that all he had done? Instead of getting mad, she asked cautiously, 'And where will you be?'

Derek hesitated, quirked an eyebrow. 'At Hockey camp.' A lorry splashed past on the inside lane, spraying them with slush. Derek swore softly under his breath, glanced at her, then back at the road. Friends or not, he had no intention of giving up the deep pleasure which seeing Casey all riled up provided. He had learnt over the years in their chaotic household that in the fire of her eyes, and the barriers that broke between them when they challenged each other, lay the difference between _merely existing_ and _really being alive_. But today she she wasn't playing.

'Okay.' Casey closed her eyes and leaned back against her headrest. The past week had been a rollercoaster. She was still dizzy - mostly with relief and adoration; but also with anxiety.

George was being all edgy with them. Kind of suspicious and watchful, in a way they'd never witnessed before or expected from this mild-mannered, usually amicable man. It was as if his mind had swung open to something about his oldest son and stepdaughter, and now he couldn't get it closed. Nora had clearly been alerted by him to some unusual circumstance, and was trying her best to contain her excitement about both their children going off to university in deference to George's awkward mood. Edwin and Lizzie were always off in corners poring over their research files or giggling madly about something or the other. But when their parents or siblings entered a room, they would make a dash for the door. The resulting jumpiness was just not funny.

So, since the revelations of Thursday morning, Derek and Casey had tried to be as casual as they could around each other when in front of their family.

Although they had not discussed this, there existed a mutual agreement that nothing should be allowed to ruffle the waters between them all, at least until the summer vacation. So, not even the shadow of a public hug; no whispered conversations or flirtatious looks; certainly no entwined fingers until they were out of the house or safe in one of their bedrooms, with everyone else in bed. Only Marti, sucking on the corner of one of her pillows, sleepy and frightened by thunder, had walked in on them. And she'd barely seemed to notice that they were side by side on Derek's bed (wrestling soundlessly for the third pillow, as it happened, but Marti wasn't asking). She had accepted their joint affection with sweet complacency, simply demanding that one of them stroke her hair while the other patted her shoulder. Their love could work out well for some people in the family, Derek had realised.

Thursday at school had been like a superstore of killer smiles and covert touches. The anonymity of crowded hallways had given them a sense of safety and an edge of danger at the same time – because clearly, if either of them thought they were really anonymous at school, and that they were not being watched by at least as many curious eyes as at home, they were delusional. Nevertheless, neither of them had wanted to go home.

Passing them in the car park when they arrived in the morning, Paul had given them a questioning look. Casey had smiled, dazzlingly, unable to conceal her enchanted state and received in return a most astonished stare.

Sam had asked if Derek was sick and then been quietly congratulatory about the university thing; he was off on a road-trip with his girlfriend and then heading out to the States to work and travel for a year before making his mind up about the future; they were going to miss each other but neither wanted to say the words. So they concentrated on checking out the new Maths teacher, Miss Adkin. Or at least Sam checked her out, and Derek played along.

Emily had placed her hands firmly over her mouth and then screamed as loud as she could when she heard Casey's news – about Toronto, of course. Because that was where she was headed, to Art school, in the fall. Bar that topic, nothing further was heard or said.

Friday had been Derek's big game. And, despite the best efforts of the captain and coach, the screams of confidence from Edwin and Marti, the cheers from Nora, Casey and Lizzie, their team had lost, narrowly; simple bad luck. So celebrations and goodbyes had been muted.

But somewhere between Thursday morning and Friday night, Derek had spoken to George. Had done this deal. And it had bought them a whole day alone at a juncture when even an hour together was something to be cherished. Oh, how Casey now longed for those times she'd stayed up in her room, pretending to be oblivious to the proximity of Derek, reading a novel as the rest of the family shopped or ran errands. What would she not give for some of that time alone with him now - to creep into his room while he sat at the computer and wind her arms around his waist. To infuriate him by making sundry comments on his attire and his grammar. Their recent fights had brought them closer, she felt; but with George's newfound vigilance, they didn't have a chance to test this theory. Still, neither of them questioned that their family was a good thing, a wonderful, confusing magnificent thing, as important to their lives as the air in their lungs; had it not been for Nora and George's love, they might never even have met.

They turned off the highway, soon entering the outskirts of Toronto. It was raining furiously; visibility was dreadful. They had to stop.

'You're mad at me?'

'No.'

'Well. You should be! I'm mad at myself! I don't want to go anywhere. I want to be with you. Uh. And the kids, of course.'

'Then don't do it.'

'You're suggesting I lie to George and not go to Hockey camp?'

'Derek, you infant! You _know_ you lied already. So don't try and annoy me. There _is_ no Hockey camp this summer!'

They parked on a side street, next to a shop selling oriental imports, and just stared at each other. Derek let out his breath unsteadily, wanting to say something, anything, with the word LOVE in it, so that Casey would never leave him or hate him or doubt him for as long as they lived.

'Coffee, sleuth McDonald?'

'Uh huh, cute guy.'

Glancing sideways at her open, happy face, Derek thought that if the moment of choosing were up to him, he would die right here.

But being Derek, he took refuge in wit, muttering, 'Why would I go to camp when I've got such an important Case to see to at home?' and then, when she just kept right on smiling up at him, 'Dad and Nora are now cool with our plans, thanks to incredible moi.'

'You know, I used to have to run to my room and whisper things into my pillow every time you said something like that about yourself.'

'What kinds of things?' His throat sounded dry, his voice rough. Why had nothing in his life before ever made him feel this nervous? He wasn't counting the time Abby knocked on his door to tell him she was leaving them.

'At first I used to curse you – well I'd do that to your face, admittedly.' She's giggling and he's feeling like he needs air. Now. 'But there were times – like when you filmed and edited that movie about our family and left my name on the credits? And when you helped out me and Marti at camp that year. And the day you got Lizzie's coach back for three-timing me. And after you got my dress and took me to prom and when you helped out mom on her sports stall; and every single time you smiled at me after I'd helped you – those times I'd be saying just one thing, Derek: _I love him, so, so, so much_. When Max and I split, the only thing I could think was, _now I can think about Derek without feeling guilty_. Even though you always say you're irresistible, I'll bet anything that you never guessed. I'm a pretty good actress, hey?' The car had disappeared. She had leaned towards him, and touched her forehead to his.

'Sooo... all those drool-stains on your pillowcase were actually parts of this longer conversation?'

She laughed. She laughed? That did it.

'Case, I felt – I do feel – the same way about you. I tried to tell you when we wrote that song - uh - when you helped me write that song about the girl I love.'

'I know.' She knows. And she's willing to wait it out with her mom, his dad, their friends. She willing to put up with his jokes, fight her own battles, and his at times, for the sake of the thing they've got going. There are so many things wrong with the world. But this love is really not one of them.

Hair, eyes, lips, shining, blinking, smiling. Hearts beating faster, faster.

Then they kissed, wordlessly, open-mouthed and eyes shut tight, before stumbling out of the car and sprinting through the rain to a near-by diner.

It was steamy and crowded, but they found a booth and slid in, again by unspoken agreement, beside each other. After they'd ordered, Derek sighed and tugged Casey against him, encircling her waist with an arm and leaning his head down onto hers, his hair and hers tangling together. His expression was relaxed and slightly awed: replete with contentment, a feeling that he usually chose to hide under faux-cool, pretend boredom or mock-bravado.

Billy Holiday was playing softly on an old fashioned radio. Her pain-filled words did not suit their mood, but her silken voice certainly did.

Casey, feeling Derek's body snug against hers and breathing quicker, and more openly than she allowed herself in the presence of her family, was again thinking things good schoolgirls really aren't supposed to think. Because, face it, there's still a premium on schoolgirl innocence in the adult world, at least when it comes to young women of Casey's description. In that textbook, juxtaposing hot stepbrothers and secret dates might create an earthquake. And yet, here they were, in perfectly imperfect accord as always, toying with thoughts of a future filled with each other and everything else as well.

--

Their twenty-something waitress – tired after her early start, the constant chug, chug of orders and conversations, thoughts of her equally tired boyfriend working his second job, and her smiling baby, and her dying mother swirling through her mind – is observing them quietly from another table as she clears away the detritus of a businessman's breakfast.

She feels a stab of mysterious jealousy. Her feeling is not for the girl in particular – though yes, the guy is incredibly cute and looks as if he just about wants to eat his girlfriend for lunch – but for the steady and tender place this young couple seem to have found. It's a place that is clearly at the beginning of something. And even though this is actually the middle of their complicated, hopeful and occasionally tragic story, it is in this place that you and I will have to leave them.

_**--FIN--**_

**And in case you're a faithful reader who's read right through without reviewing, (because, I get it, there simply are no words...) I forgive you! But hit that button now - or else!**


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